The Dreadlord
by FountainOfPens
Summary: "She is a brave warrior and a true credit to the Sentinel order." "Uh… Meen… not to be rude or anything, but is being famous for boinking a leader of the opposing faction really being a credit to the order?" A warden and a demon hunter are hired for a last-ditch, top-secret mission by the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas. Complications ensue.
1. Chapter 1: Two Odd Couples

A/N: This is set during Legion. Slightly AUish in that Lor'themar Theron has a night elf consort, because I was inspired by the story Night and Day by Chasidah ( s/8584005/1/Night-and-Day).

Warden Mina Clearwater looked at her business partner with sympathy. To her, the magnificent forests of Val'Sharah were a comforting reminder of home, but Syeris, being a demon hunter, stuck out like a sore thumb, and clearly felt it. She kept fidgeting, unlacing and relacing one of her leather bracers. She exhaled roughly and said, "He's late."

Mina shrugged. "He's the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas. It's probably not so easy for him to sneak away from his handlers for a rendezvous with two shady types such as ourselves."

Syeris snorted. "Being a Warden isn't shady."

"No, but being a night elf is. Though I hear he's not feeling so unfriendly towards our kind these days."

Syeris nodded shortly. She'd also heard the rumors that Lord Lor'themar Theron had recently taken a night elf as a consort. Mina actually did not know if her associate and friend had any opinions on the subject. If she hadn't said anything, and she hadn't, she was either indifferent or trying to spare Mina's feelings by declining to malign a kaldorei in her presence. Which meant she was likely indifferent. Mina smiled to herself. _Syeris being tactful? That'll really be the day._

Syeris tensed suddenly. "Magic. His Lordship is arriving, I think."

She was proven half-right as two cones of bright blue light flashed into existence before them in the clearing they'd chosen for a meeting-place. One of the cones faded to reveal His Lordship Lor'themar Theron, and the other, to Mina's slight surprise, revealed a beautiful kaldorei woman with long violet hair, who muttered "Excuse me" and promptly stumbled into the bushes. Mina and Syeris winced, hearing her retch.

The Regent Lord looked at the two mercenaries with a touch of embarrassment. "Apologies, Warden, teleportation really does not agree with her."

Mina nodded and reached into her pack, retrieving a small glass potion bottle and offering it to the blood elf lord, her movements brisk and professional. "Take her this. It'll help with the nausea. We are happy to wait until the lady has righted herself before we discuss business."

The Regent Lord appraised the bottle suspiciously. "What is it?"

Mina waved a hand dismissively. "Just some water with some anti-emetic herbs mixed in."

Lord Theron looked hard into her face for another few seconds before nodding shortly and taking the bottle from her hands. He followed the woman into the bushes. Mina and Syeris exchanged glances, trying to ignore the whispered conversation the other two elves were having.

Or at least Mina was. Syeris, shameless as usual, stalked a little closer to the bushes, trying to eavesdrop. Mina rolled her eyes and muttered, "Syeris, really, do you _mind_ acting even _slightly_ professional in the presence of the leader of your people?"

Syeris turned back to face her and snorted, flicking a strand of bright blond hair out of her face. "Not. My people are the Illidari. Pretty sure most of my 'fellow' sin'dorei would kill me on sight, including that one." She smirked with nasty confidence. "Or try to, anyway."

Mina sighed. "Well, anyway, some respect is in order, don't you think? He is a client, after all," she begged.

Syeris shrugged and grinned. "Hey, well, that's what I keep you around for, Meen. Your business acumen." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes narrowed. Lowering her voice, she added, "Anyway, I'm curious. That night elf isn't all she seems."

Mina raised her eyebrows. "I would expect not. Did you see something?"

Syeris nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could answer Lord Theron stepped back out of the bushes, leading the kaldorei woman by the hand with a surprising gentleness. In fact, he almost seemed to be clucking over her, leaning over her with one hand twined in hers, the other resting firmly and protectively on her hip. Mina caught Syeris's gaze, and the latter raised a brow at her. _So I guess the rumors are true._ In fact, looking over the woman, she was dressed rather expensively—and impractically—in a sleeveless blue gown cinched around the middle to reveal significant portions of her midriff and silver ornaments that suited her violet hair and pale pink complexion surprisingly well. Silver earrings dangled all along the tips of her long ears and silver bangles graced her wrists. But this woman was not just a pretty plaything, if Mina was any judge. Her bare arms were muscled and battle-scarred, and she could make out a few scars along her waist and stomach as well.

The woman leaned on Lord Theron and stood a little straighter, meeting Mina's curious gaze with an imperious one of her own. "My apologies, again. As my lord said, teleportation severely disagrees with me. Thank you for your remedy."

Lord Theron stood straighter as well, turning his gaze to Mina and Syeris. "Well, in any case, let's talk business, shall we?" He smiled humorlessly. "I, as you know, am Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron of Quel'Thalas, and this is my consort, Sentinel Sinala Greenleaf." No one but a Warden could have caught the slight look of uneasiness that flashed across his features as he said the word "consort." Sentinel Greenleaf's displeasure at the term was slightly more apparent, as she gave a wince of distaste as he said it. Interesting.

Mina cleared her throat and bowed from the waist. "I am honored, Regent Lord, Sentinel Greenleaf, to make your acquaintance. I, of course, am Warden Mina Clearwater, and this is my business partner, Illidari Syeris Verdana." Syeris copied her motion and bowed from the waist. "How may we serve?"

Lord Theron's face settled into a mask of regal indifference. "First, you must understand that absolute discretion is necessary here. No one can know of this… task I am setting you. It is a delicate matter and we are living in precarious times."

Mina bowed her head slightly and replied, "Of course, Lord Theron. We are professionals. You need not be concerned." She ignored the wry look Syeris sent her way at the word "professionals."

"Yep. Only thing we're concerned about is whether the check clears, my lord," Syeris added, grinning. Mina shot her a warning look. If only they were sitting at a table so she could kick her partner without being seen.

"Well, you needn't be concerned on that front. I assure you, you will be rewarded handsomely," said Theron briskly. He reached into his dark crimson vest and pulled out a sack heavy with coin. "The first installment of your payment," he announced, handing the bag to Mina, who inclined her head with a murmured "thank you, my lord." He looked at Sinala and an unspoken conversation passed between them.

"So now, to business," Sinala said in lightly accented Thalassian. She turned around so that her back was facing them and lifted the curtain of wavy violet hair to expose the back of her neck. A fearsome black tattoo spiderwebbed its way across her skin. Mina shuddered to look at it. You didn't need Syeris's magically augmented sight to sense that its purpose was to bind powerful fel magic into the body of its bearer. And besides, it looked as though the ink was somehow digging into her flesh.

"A dreadlord's mark," said Syeris, nodding as though some suspicion of hers had just been confirmed. "I haven't seen one of those in a good long while. Who'd you piss off, night elf?"

Lord Theron looked scandalized and opened his mouth to retort, but Mina cut in smoothly, "Please forgive my colleague's crassness, Lord Theron," bowing low. "She is… not quite house-trained, but very efficient and good at what she does, I assure you."

Syeris snorted, but she'd known Mina too long to truly take offense, and she clearly didn't want to lose this job either.

Lord Theron shook off his anger. "Well, in any case, about that." He sighed. "When the Legion first invaded, a dreadlord called Lordamus killed a very dear friend of mine, on the very soil of my kingdom. It was a provocation. Lordamus and I have a… history, going all the way back to the Third War." His one green eye burned briefly, but he continued, "In any case, his murder of my friend sparked an insatiable desire for vengeance in me, and I decided to hunt him. After all, if Sylvanas can wander off on her own business in Stormheim when there's a war on, I decided I could take some time for my own… personal project." He smirked wryly. "Around that time, Sinala and I first made our acquaintance."

Sinala crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. "He means that his men took me as a prisoner of war after I saved his life."

Humor and affection lit his eye as he darted a glance at his consort. "That's right. In any case, by the time I was ready to set out on the hunt, Sinala and I had gotten to know one another fairly well, so I told her of my plans. She insisted rather firmly on accompanying me."

"Yes. Because I was falling desperately in love with him," Sinala added in a sarcastic tone belied by her fond smile as she gazed at Lord Theron.

Lord Theron returned her glance just as fondly, continuing, "Indeed she was. And in addition to my own… not indifferent feelings towards her, I thought she might be safer by my side than at court in Silvermoon without my protection. So we set out. After some weeks, we found the dreadlord." His expression grew grave. "Unfortunately, the confrontation did not go as planned. As I was about to plunge my blade into his loathsome chest, he smiled at me and said, 'Ah, Lor'themar, ever the fool rushing in. You may not care for your own life, but what of hers?'"

Sinala grimaced. "And he cursed me."

Lord Theron nearly growled, pulling Sinala close to his side. "And then disappeared into the Nether, cackling."

Sinala put a calming hand on his arm and finished, "I've been slowly dying ever since. Painfully. And with his mark on me, the dreadlord can see into my mind. He knows all of my secrets, so he knows all of Lor'themar's. So he's now on a need-to-know basis with the Warchief, so that he doesn't reveal anything to me and therefore to the dreadlord, and that is dangerous for its own reasons."

Lord Theron closed his eyes. "And my people do not know. Cannot know. They are unhappy enough as it is with Sinala's… role in my life. If they find out that I am compromised because of her, they will cry out for her blood." He took a breath, clenching his consort's hand in his. "And I cannot let that happen."

"I'm kind of surprised you didn't just kill her," commented Syeris. On receiving searing glares from the other three elves and realizing that she was on the point of dying either to Lord Theron's sword or to Mina's, she coughed and added, "Saving your presence, your… ladyship, but that's probably the easiest way to get rid of a sodding dreadlord curse. For him and for you."

Sinala's face was tight. "Believe me, I tried to convince him," she bit out. "But he insisted we try this first."

That floored even Syeris. "Oh," was all she said in response.

"So you want the dreadlord dead," Mina said.

"Yes. But… that's not all," replied Sinala, looking at Lord Theron. He obliged and finished for her, saying, "You are also to guard my wife." Mina and Syeris carefully did not react to his use of the word. Nonetheless, Lord Theron felt their discomfort and added with an edge to his voice, "Her title was a political necessity, but that is what she is to me. So you can understand what I am trusting you with. Ludicrous as it is, she is likely safer in your company than anywhere else on Azeroth. She will travel with you. Guard her life. Ease her pain. I will check on the three of you as often as I can. And in exchange, you will receive whatever boons the crown and coffers of Quel'Thalas can provide." He said the last sentence with his gaze on Sinala's face, words underlaid with a current of fierceness and desperation that shocked the two mercenaries before him. He turned back to them, mask firmly in place. "So. Will you do it?"

Mina glanced at Syeris, whose expression was for once unreadable. She took a deep breath and said, "Might I confer with my colleague in private for a moment? I assure you, you will have your answer within ten minutes, Regent Lord. We will not waste your time." Lord Theron nodded, and Syeris followed Mina into the trees. When they were out of earshot, Mina leaned against a tree and regarded her associate. "So?"

Syeris's expression was so eager and hungry that Mina thought she could see a gleam in her eyes even through the blindfold and the fel flames she knew roiled beneath it. "Oh, hell yes."

Mina snorted sarcastically. "Don't hold back or anything." She tugged a strand of white hair that had come free of her usually severe braid. "Seriously though. It's risky. Really, really risky. We might stick out in a crowd, Syeris, but really we're two nobodies, and if she comes to harm on our watch, nobody will notice if Theron disappears us."

Syeris responded with a snort of her own and said, "Oh come on, Mina, that's not even close to being the worst-case scenario. The worst-case scenario is that we all end up the dreadlord's playthings until we succumb to his tender mercies. And dreadlords are good at making sure you _don't_ succumb for a long, long time."

Mina shuddered. Syeris didn't. Mina said, "Or we could start a war. If she dies, the Alliance will blame him for it, and his own people might well disown him."

"So we'll just have to make sure a vaunted warrior of the Sentinels doesn't die, then. Shouldn't be too hard." Mina's eyes bugged at her, but Syeris brushed her off, continuing, "Besides, think of the rewards! The Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas owing us a favor… a few big favors, even…" She smirked, her fangs gleaming in her grin.

Mina rolled her eyes. Demons were obsessed with favors and bargains and _especially_ with having something on one another, and demon hunters, dealing as intimately with them as they did, tended to learn to think in those terms after a while. "I really doubt the Regent Lord would take kindly to blackmail, Syeris. And he almost hunted down a dreadlord, almost singlehandedly by the sound of it. Plus, he's a—" she shuddered—" _politician._ A damn sight cannier even than you."

The demon hunter put up her hands in a gesture of protest. "Hey, hey, I'm not suggesting blackmail! I'm just saying it can't hurt to have such a powerful man beholden to us."

"Syeris, you're—"

"No better than a demon, I know."

Mina sighed. "I was going to say crazy."

They were silent for a moment. Then Syeris asked, "And you? What do you think of all this?"

Mina rubbed her thighs thoughtfully. "Well. It's a good opportunity. And I know of Sinala Greenleaf. Knew of her before she became infamous for her choice of bedmate. She was revered even among the Sentinels. She is a brave warrior and a true credit to the Sentinel order."

Syeris rubbed her nose absently, lost in a brown study. Then she finally said, "Uh… Meen… not to be rude or anything, but is being famous for boinking a leader of the opposing faction really being a credit to the order?"

Mina was quiet for a moment, half stunned at Syeris's words and half shocked that the other woman could still surprise her after everything they'd been through. Finally, she shook her head and said, "…Friend, I really wish I could tell you, but A, I'm not a Sentinel, and B, the yardstick I was using to measure who's navigating this ridiculous mess we call a world successfully broke a long time ago."

Syeris threw back her head and laughed. After a moment's hesitation, Mina joined her. When they'd caught her breath, she was surprised to find herself fixed with a penetrating gaze from the demon hunter. "So, Warden?" Syeris asked seriously. "We doing this?"

Mina smirked back at her. "Damn straight, Illidari."


	2. Chapter 2: Sentinel

As the mercenaries conferred, the Regent Lord and his consort stood in silence for a few minutes, holding each other. Finally, Lor'themar murmured, "Sinala."

"Yes?"

"Well? Do you trust them?" he said against her ear.

"Do I trust a demon hunter and a Warden who's apparently fallen on such hard times that she has resorted to consorting with such a creature?" she asked lightly, stroking his white-blond hair. "But of course."

He sighed. "Well, do you trust _me_ , then?"

Her eyes softened as she looked into his scarred face. "More than anyone in this world. You know that."

"Good. Then you know I will always leave you in safe hands." He kissed her forehead.

"I know. It's not really the safe hands that bother me so much as the leaving." She cupped his cheek.

He moved his hand to cover her own, rubbing his cheek against her palm. "I know, my love. But what other choice do we have?"

She looked away. "You know what other choice."

"Killing my wife is not a choice," he said gruffly. He pulled her against his chest, threading his fingers in her hair. "Killing the only thing that has brought me joy since the Third War is not a choice," he whispered fiercely.

"Killing your consort, who compromised you and who's dying anyway, _is_ a choice," she replied, meeting his gaze with equal ferocity. More quietly, she said, "Am I not allowed to worry for you, too, Lor'themar? I know you'd give your life if you were in my place."

"I wouldn't give it senselessly," he snapped. "Did those Sentinels of yours teach you no sense? No self-preservation?"

Her mouth was set in a firm line. "Lor'themar."

He could see that if he continued in this vein he would overstep a line, and that he would get exactly nowhere by it. He massaged her scalp in that way she liked, and sighed. "I am sorry, my love." He gazed into her white glowing eyes. "You have sacrificed so much to be with me, and gotten so little in return," he whispered, regret and pain imbued in every syllable.

She was already shaking her head before he could finish his sentence. "I have gotten everything I wanted in return," she said earnestly. She paused for a moment, thinking. "My love. If I agree to do this, will you promise me something?"

"Anything," he responded immediately.

She gave him a wry, sad look. He was always so guarded, so calculating, so cautious, except when it came to her. She took a breath and said, "If this doesn't work… if _nothing_ works and you have to kill me—"

"It won't come to that," he started, but quieted when she held up her hand, gesturing for him to wait until she was done speaking.

" _If_ it comes to that," she insisted, eyes locked to his, "I want you to do it. Don't send me away with your guards or your magisters. Do it with your own two hands."

He was shaking, just slightly, and tried to speak. "Sinala, I—I can't do that, I—please—"

"No, Lor'themar, listen," she hissed. "Do not let them dispose of me like the gutter whore they think I am! Let me die with honor, like the proud Sentinel I was. Let me pass from this world looking into the eyes of the man I love." She was begging now, but there was a desperate pride in her gaze. "Or, if you can't do that, give me to my people and let them execute me as the traitor they think I am." She squeezed his hands with all her warrior's strength. "Promise me."

He took a deep breath and said, "I promise, Sinala." He pulled her against him and held her with all his strength. "But I will try every last thing I can first."

"I can accept that, though I still think it's foolish."

He raised an eyebrow at her in mock hauteur. "You may _think_ whatever you please, so long as you obey the word of the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas, Savior of his People."

She smirked at him flirtatiously. "We'll see what my husband says."

His playful expression fell from his face. He looked tired, and much older. "Your husband just hopes he manages to do the right thing more often than not."

She brought his knuckles to her lips. "He does," she said simply.


	3. Chapter 3: Do You Know What To Do?

Mina was running her finger along the spines of the books in the library below the Chamber of the Guardian as Syeris picked at her nails, leaning so far back in her chair that its two front legs were a foot off the ground. "You know, I'm starting to think a dreadlord cursed me, too," she groused. "He cursed me with eternal boredom in the form of a fussy Warden who doesn't understand that you can't learn anything important about a demon from a book."

Mina rolled her eyes. "Funny, that. I'm pretty sure a dreadlord cursed _me_ with a whining, uncouth demon hunter who utterly refuses to be helpful unless it involves sating her bloodlust." She turned to face her partner, hands on her hips. "You know, this will go much faster if you search the shelves too." She thought for a moment. "Or you could write to Kuma."

Syeris wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Huh? Kuma? What for?"

Kuma was a cranky tauren paladin who was probably the reason the term "strong and silent type" was invented. Except that he was more the strong and sullen type. He was also their erstwhile traveling companion and a damned good healer with pretty extensive experience of demonic curses.

Mina shrugged. "Do _you_ know what we should do if she suddenly faints from the pain? If the dreadlord takes control of her body and refuses to let her eat or sleep? If she starts vomiting green blood?"

Syeris shut one eye, staring out at Mina from the other suspiciously. "Um, that just sounds like Tuesday to me, so... no?" she ventured.

"Neither do I. But Kuma might."

"Are you suggesting we invite him along on this little jaunt? I'm not sure I could handle being exposed to his bubbly charm on a daily basis again quite yet."

Mina shook her head. "No. Top-secret mission, remember? We're not getting anyone else involved directly until and unless we absolutely have to. Speaking of which, maybe don't let's talk about all this in full hearing of the esteemed public that is the Dalaran Library." Her senses told her they were alone, and she was sure Syeris's did as well or she would have said something, but this was Dalaran, where all kinds of people had all kinds of ways of getting into business they shouldn't.

Syeris sighed. "Right-o, boss." She paused. "So what do we tell the tauren?" She lowered her voice and continued, "Hey, just a fun thought experiment, what would you do if you had a night elf who _absolutely must not die_ and by the way is also being slowly tortured to death with dreadlord magic in tow? Asking for a friend with extra hypothetical on top, I swear?"

Mina snickered. "Yeah, that's about right. Or maybe you decided that you ought to learn ways of surviving a skirmish with demons besides just drinking their souls and knowing the exact angle at which to kick a felguard's head in so he'll start bleeding from multiple orifices at once?"

The look of high dudgeon mixed with utter disdain Syeris shot her would have given even Kael'Thas Sunstrider at his tighty-whitiest a run for his money. "Sargeras's musty ballsack," she grumbled. "As though I'd forfeit my position as top orifice-burster by getting out of practice. That Dawnblade has his eye on my throne, you know." She sniffed indignantly.

To keep herself from bursting into helpless laughter—she'd already learned that lesson a good few times—Mina asked gravely, "And what are the stakes of the championship?"

Syeris flipped her hair haughtily. "Oh, lots. Top orifice-burster's technically owed a free drink from any other Illidari she meets on her travels, though it's a few of us you really don't want to try enforcing that with. If there's a dispute over prey, top orifice-burster gets first crack at it, though again, if it's a really serious vendetta it's understood you oughtn't interfere. But most importantly, top orifice-burster gets the title of Her Bloodyship or His Bloodship and bragging rights."

Mina couldn't stop herself from asking, "Why is it Her Blood _y_ ship but His _Blood_ ship?"

Syeris looked at her like she'd just asked the stupidest question in the universe. "Because His Bloodship sounds just like His Lordship, and Her Bloodyship sounds just like Her Ladyship. It's the principle of the thing."

It took every ounce of Mina's Warden self-discipline to let all of this pass with no further comment than, "Ah. I can see it's rather an important post, then."

If Syeris knew she was being teased, or worse, humored, she wisely didn't let on. She slid out of her chair and into a standing position with a demon hunter's eerie grace and put her hands on her hips, jutting her chin out so she could take in the whole room. "I'll write to Kuma then," she announced.

Mina nodded shortly. "Sounds good. Go ahead and stretch your legs a bit too when you're done, I can tell you're getting peaky. Dinner's on me at the Cantrips and Crows, but only if you get there by 6:30."

Syeris gave her a chipper salute and sauntered off.

If Mina thought about it too hard, or, frankly, at all, their little partnership made absolutely no sense. Mina's order had been tasked with keeping the world safe from Syeris's kind. When Maiev had shattered the Illidari's cages, Mina had been as shocked and scandalized as the rest of them, if not more so. It… really hadn't helped matters, to say the least, when Mina's wife of ten thousand years, Inara, had sacrificed everything—their life together, her own status as an elite Warden, her friends and her home—to join the demon hunters' ranks when they walked the world again, only to go and get herself killed at the Broken Shore. Despite the fact that Syeris was an abomination, a twisted creature who had burned away everything of herself except for fel magic and her bottomless need for vengeance, Mina had come to trust and care for her.

The truth was that Syeris was _mostly_ a bloodthirsty, mutated monster, but that wasn't _all_ she was. She was also forthright, honorable by her own bizarre lights, and fiercely loyal. What Mina had at first thought was just the brute, stupid personality of the mo'arg whose heart she'd eaten to become what she was had turned out to cloak an almost childlike innocence, an ability to see past exteriors and put her faith in individuals instead of factions or ideas. And the damnedest thing was that she was often right about who she chose, too. If Syeris decided she liked someone, they had an intense, involuntary compulsion to make sure they deserved her favor. Mina included.

So, yes, Syeris was a good few miles over the madness horizon, and she was quite happy to let most people think of her as a terrifying avatar of rage and corruption barely clinging to her sanity. They were right in that there was both true madness and desperate sanity within her; they'd just gotten the arrangement of them wrong. Syeris's mind was a thick fog of lunacy anchored by a small steel core of sanity right in the middle of it. She knew exactly who she was and exactly who she had become, and she was deeply certain and deeply proud of each of those parts of herself. Within that strange, roiling, fel-addled mess, she was somewhere, somehow at peace with herself.

It had to be some kind of insane zen, turned backwards and inside out. The monks of Pandaria would have a lot to learn from Syeris.

Shaking off the deeply peculiar thought of Syeris debating some chunky pandaren Grandmaster, Mina turned back to her research.


	4. Chapter 4: Marriage

When the four of them met again so that the Regent Lord could bequeath the dearest person in the world to him to a disgraced Warden and a disgraceful demon hunter, there were no bushes for her to run to, so he sat patiently still and stroked her hair as she vomited all over his pants. He met the Warden's gaze with an annoyed glare, daring her to say anything. Her face completely blank, she wordlessly handed him a brown cloth to wipe himself with as Sinala finally sat up straight, coughing, her eyes stinging with tears. "Oh, Lor, I'm so sorry—"

"It really doesn't matter, love. At least you didn't get any on you," he said, briskly cleaning the contents of her stomach off of his lap. He winced. "Though I do wish you'd aim just a little lower next time."

He could see that the Warden was quietly impressed. He couldn't read the demon hunter's face, which in a way comforted him. He couldn't fathom what it would possibly mean if he started understanding something like her. The green-blue tattoos writhing up her torso and down her arms glowed even in broad daylight, and her skin was reddish, fel-scorched and scaled. And of course there were the powerful ram's horns spiraling from her temples. He decided that he could trust in the stocky, wiry strength of her body—unusually thick and stolid for a blood elf—to protect his love, and tried not to think about whatever lurked behind the sinister blindfold. Well, at least the Warden would theoretically keep her in check. After all, that was what the Wardens had been created to do, if he remembered his history right.

He turned to look at Sinala, who was dressed much more sensibly this time in a ranger's leathers. Her lovely violet hair was still loose, flowing down her shoulders almost to her waist. She'd thought it best to keep Lordamus's mark hidden while they were traveling, and he agreed. She looked pale and nervous, but he was sure that only he could see through her composure. He smiled affectionately. _My fierce little huntress_. He brushed a flyaway strand of hair away from her face and she looked up at him through her eyelashes, inspiring rather enticing thoughts that he really wished he had time to act on, despite the fact that she'd just puked on him. Sometimes the intensity of his desire for this woman truly terrified him.

The demon hunter cleared her throat awkwardly. "So uh, hate to intrude, but we really ought to get moving, Your Lordship."

He turned to her and nodded once. "Of course." He turned back to his wife, his heart tearing a little at her anxious gaze. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, then leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry, my love, but I don't feel terribly keen on kissing you properly at the moment. As much as I love your lips, even I have my limits." She chuckled against his throat. "I love you, Sinala. I thank the Light that I found you every day. Please be safe. Listen to your guards. And remember, whatever happens, I will never regret marrying you."

She kissed his neck, trembling a little, and replied, "Nor I you. I love you, Lor'themar. You have made me so happy. Thank you."

They embraced, and then Sinala rose, squaring her shoulders as she mounted the horse the Warden had provided her. Lor'themar stood himself and turned to the Warden. "Well. I'll be in touch. Your next payment will be in the bank by the end of the week, and I will try to come find you in two weeks. You know how to get in touch with me."

The Warden bowed once again from the waist, as did her partner. "We thank you once again for your custom, Regent Lord. Your wife is in good hands."

Lor'themar nodded again. As he felt the teleportation spell jerk at his stomach, he prayed that was true.


	5. Chapter 5: Nice Girl and Icicle Man

After approximately five minutes riding in uncertain silence, the Illidari turned to face Sinala with what she realized later was meant to be a friendly smile and asked in surprisingly, even shockingly fluent Darnassian, "So how does a nice kaldorei girl like you end up porking the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas in front of God and everyone?"

The Warden sighed heavily and drawled, "My very dear Syeris, you might try not offending our guest within the first five minutes she is alone in our company, hmm? Once again, please forgive my colleague. She loves people, but her rather singular approach to manners involves being so rude she meets politeness and friendly conversation coming back the other way." She paused. "Well, occasionally."

In her relatively short tenure as Lor'themar Theron's secret lover, then public consort, Sinala had received an incredibly wide range of questions about and emotional responses to her relationship with the Regent Lord, and she had quickly developed a rotation of largely inoffensive (as well as a few subtly offensive) rejoinders, but she had no idea what to say to any of that. She remembered that she and Lor had already mentioned part of how they met, so she decided that for the first time she was going to try the truth.

"Well… His Lordship was in Ashenvale, as was I. I found him badly injured in the woods. I didn't know who he was and I spoke hardly a word of Thalassian at the time. I knew he was the enemy, but I could tell that he was a ranger, or had been at one time, and we tend to feel a… kinship with one another—"

"Ah yes, the whole 'we are one with the wilds' thing," commented the Illidari, leaning lazily on her felsaber's saddle.

Sinala narrowed her eyes, annoyed at her flippant attitude towards the fraternity of rangers, but continued, "So I decided to help him. I thought he might understand even some of what I said if I spoke to him in Darnassian, so I tried it, and it turns out he's fluent. Suspicious, but I'm not really good at extricating myself once I've committed to a bad decision." She smiled slightly to herself. "Especially a bad decision as attractive and flirtatious as Lor'themar Theron." She sighed. "Anyway, as I was getting up to go, his rangers found him, and suddenly I was a prisoner of war. And he explained exactly nothing to his rangers, but specified that I was to be kept alive. I'm still a little pissed at him for that. When we were finally left alone, I tried to tell him off, but he just shushed me and said it was safer this way, and he'd figure out a way to sneak me back to Darnassus as soon as he could." She smirked. "Well, we got to talking, and somehow the date of my escape seemed to be getting pushed back further and further. Then I got involved with his hunt for the dreadlord, and it all got much more complicated after that because he went and told me he loved me on our way home to Silvermoon. I wanted him, but I also did not want to be his prisoner, and eventually I got so peeved I challenged him to a Ranger's Game—kind of a contest between the most highly skilled rangers, where you're supposed to bet pretty high stakes on the outcome. I won and went back to Darnassus." She paused. "The mark hadn't appeared yet, so we didn't know what had happened to me."

She drummed her fingers against her horse's saddle. "Well, I missed him terribly, of course, but I thought it was better this way. Imagine my surprise when the lovesick idiot staged an entire diplomatic visit to Darnassus to get me to come back to him. I spent the night in his quarters and we talked about what might be waiting for me in Silvermoon if I did. What might happen to us. He didn't sugarcoat it. I thought about it and decided that I at least had to try. So I did." She sighed. "And then a few weeks ago I started having symptoms, and the mark showed up on my neck."

The demon hunter stared at her, clearly impressed by something in her words, though Sinala was unsure what it was. "That's really beautiful," she said finally.

Sinala flushed. "Thank you. I certainly think so."

Unfortunately, as seemed to be typical of her, the demon hunter was not in fact done speaking. "Really, colossally, majestically stupid, but beautiful." She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Like… a really intricate ice sculpture of a trogg with its dick out, or something."

Sinala was speechless for the second time that day. The Warden was also quiet, but her shoulders were shaking. Alarmed, Sinala turned to face her. _Is she… crying?_ She tried to get a look under the Warden's silver helm.

To her extreme consternation, she realized that the other night elf was trying to suppress hysterical laughter. "I'm—s-sorry—S-S-Sentinel," she managed, still warring with her giggles. At last she managed to master herself and breathed, "Elune preserve us," raising her visor to wipe away a tear of mirth.

"Indeed. If you are _quite_ finished," snipped Sinala icily.

The Illidari's amused expression faded. "Hey. I was serious about the beautiful part. That you have such faith in your icicle man is pretty inspiring."

Sinala's curiosity broke through her frosty rage. "Icicle man?"

"Yeah. He's pretty good about it, and you help, but the chill of leadership is damn near freezing him solid. Rangers are naturally decisive, but they prefer to move in packs. All that power and attention, but no true kinship. He doesn't like it." The demon hunter's blazing eyes bored into her through the blindfold. "If you live, you want to keep a good eye on that."

Feeling a little cold herself, Sinala thought she was starting to understand what the Warden meant about the Illidari's manners. The sin'dorei's comments could hardly be called polite, but she was being afforded a strange respect and dignity here that obliterated the false warmth of politeness in its blaze. The demon hunter was perhaps the first person other than Lor'themar himself to treat their union as legitimate, to respect her as his partner and equal.

 _What do those eyes of yours really see?_


	6. Chapter 6: Curses

"Heard back from Kuma today," Syeris said over breakfast to her associate. A misty dawn was breaking over the forest, but they had decided to let their guest sleep.

"Good. It's really damned good luck she hasn't had much of a fit since she's been with us." Mina frowned, poking at her porridge.

"Dunno about that," Syeris commented, tearing off a decent-sized chunk of the roasted boar leg she was eating with her canines. Ye gods. No hunger she'd felt as a mortal, and she'd felt quite a bit of it, compared to everyday hunger as a fel-twisted monstrosity. Far as she could tell, immortality in most races tended to bank the flames of the fleshly passions significantly, but in her own case, the fact that she had a theoretically limitless amount of time to devour good meat never made her enjoy or crave it less.

Not that being a demon hunter was all fun and games once you got past the ritual blinding bit. Fact of it was that after all the rituals and the training were done, you were not quite one thing, not quite the other, and mortal flesh wasn't really built to take that kind of magical strain. Every second a demon hunter inhabited a body was painful. She'd been told the pain stopped if your body was destroyed, but not your spirit, and you had to cool your heels in the Twisting Nether for a good few millennia. But if you were so weak you'd trap yourself in the Nether, neglecting your purpose, the very reason you were created, simply in order to avoid the daily physical and mental torture that was existing in a demon hunter's body, you had no business taking the blindfold.

She remembered that first year after the change how the pain would get so bad she could hardly move, searing through every cell, and she'd think: _Drowning. Being torn to pieces by wolves. Being torn to pieces by rock-flayers. Being torn to pieces by sabers._ She'd think of all the ways she could destroy herself if she were weak. _Being consumed by felfire. Having my head cut off. Jumping off a cliff._ Somehow the litany of a thousand imaginary deaths kept her from taking the plunge and arranging a real one, served to make her body into an abstraction. If she could trick herself into thinking that the very real physical suffering she was experiencing was in some way an idea, she could almost ignore the pain.

Right. What had she been saying to Mina? Yes, about whether the Sentinel had been suffering from the effects of the mark. "She has been," Syeris finished.

Mina frowned at her, puzzled. "Who has been what?"

"Sentinel _has_ been having flare-ups. Dunno if she feels it, assume she does, but the magic in that mark has been searing her on the daily."

Mina's eyes went round. "Elune."

"Yeah."

"What did Kuma say we could do for her?"

Syeris fished for the letter in her bags and scanned it. "Blah blah herbs. Any magical healing will probably sting like a motherfucker but it'll keep her in one piece on the flesh and bone level if it comes to it. Don't let her alcohol."

Mina rolled her eyes and said, "Just give it to me." Syeris easily complied. The nice thing about her partnership with Mina was that Mina was good with details and niceties. These being defined as really anything that didn't involve killing things. She even _liked_ dealing with details and niceties, and that meant Syeris could focus on the big picture of murdering anyone or anything that needed murdering.

Funny thing about the whole demon hunter racket was that everyone assumed the constant desire to kill was inherent, like with the undead. Something in the magics that made you forced you to be a parasite, to steal life from other creatures, because you weren't exactly alive yourself. That was sort of true, but it wasn't just that either. At the bottom of everything, of the incessant taunting voice of the demon you'd bound yourself to in exchange for your power, of the terrible trauma and desperation that had led you to Illidan Stormrage's door in the first place, of the bloody culture amongst the Illidari that encouraged viciousness above almost anything else, there was the simple fact that killing was one of the few experiences left that was so distracting that you might forget the terrible pain constantly assaulting your senses, even for a second. When she killed, she could live in her body without pain.

"Syeris."

"Mina."

"While she's sleeping, do you think you could come up with some fresh demon blood? Kuma says if you dress a curse wound with a bandage soaked in demon blood, it confuses the magics. Much as I admire and respect the Sentinel's strength, the Regent Lord did tell us to ease her pain."

Syeris grinned, firelight staining her teeth blood-red. "Of course."


	7. Chapter 7: Memory, Part 1

A/N: Some fighting, some serious UST in this chapter, and getting a bit deeper into Lor'themar and Sinala's past. Enjoy! Please review if you've liked the story so far :)

Sinala was dreaming. A memory this time. _They were in her cell. They were going to spar. No weapons, never any weapons, because as he kept telling her, "I don't trust you." He was lying, like he always was, but fine. No weapons. She appreciated the opportunity to practice unarmed combat, feeling that she'd grown far too used to relying on her heavy claymore._

 _Lor'themar was dressed in a simple black jerkin and pants, his hair in his typical topknot, wearing an eyepatch instead of that fancy red thing he usually wore over his bad eye when he had official Regent Lord business. He was leaning against the wall opposite, watching her. She could feel his gaze on her back like summer morning sun through an open window, a pleasant warmth that was slowly growing way too hot, but little by little, so you didn't notice until your skin was ablaze._

 _She too was wearing basic leather armor. She was standing at the desk, removing her earrings, her back to him. It was night. It felt oddly domestic, him watching her take out her earrings in silence. It felt so uncomfortable._

 _She took the last silver hoop out and laid it on the desk next to the others. He'd been pretty guarded tonight, which was fine with her. When he was shutting up it was easier to ignore this strange energy that always seemed to charge the air between them, mostly because if he was feeling playful or flirty he would never cease pointing it out._

 _"All stretched?" she asked in neutral tones._

 _"Yes." Something flickered in his eye. "Are you?"_

 _She nodded, avoiding his innuendo by her nonverbal response. Was this distance or closeness? She had no idea what the fuck was happening to her, to them, but at the same time she could feel every molecule that made up the man in front of her even though he stood across the room from her. "Then at your leisure, Your Lordship." Oh, that had annoyed him good and proper. He absolutely hated it when she was formal with him. Sinala bit on a smug grin. I may be your prisoner, I may know I'll give in to you eventually, but I am a motherfucking Sentinel of the kaldorei and by the Goddess I am going to make you_ work _for this, Lor'themar Theron. You say you want me? Let's see how much. Caught up in the moment, she even beckoned to him, only half realizing that she was moving._

 _He actually growled in frustration and lust and bent immediately into a defensive crouch, his hands curling practically into claws. They circled each other, watching, waiting. Lor'themar was good, excellent actually, would have been Ranger-General if he hadn't been promoted straight to Regent, so he usually won, but tonight for some reason Sinala had this heightened awareness of him, like she knew exactly what he would do before he did it._

 _So when he grabbed at her, instead of just barely dodging, she was actually ready for him. She couldn't hide a feral grin of victory as she caught his wrist and used his own momentum to fling him against the wall. He was damn heavy, but she was used to wearing mail and carrying a sword half her height, so with the extra force provided by his own lunge, she was more than able to throw him hard enough that the breath was knocked out of his lungs._

 _But he would have been Ranger-General, so one blow, even a decent one like that, certainly wasn't enough to incapacitate him. As soon as he hit the wall he was sucking the air back into his lungs and rolling to dodge Sinala's own lunge. He got up first and grabbed her by the ankle, flinging her into the air. She grunted in surprise but again she'd had this strange premonition that he was going to do that, and as soon as his hand left her body, she curled her body into a ball, attempting to flip in midair or at least shield herself from the impact. Much to her chagrin, she was only able to manage the second, smacking hard against the wall. Pain bloomed all along her spine and she half wanted to give up right there._

No. _Sentinel. Kaldorei._ Sinala Fucking Greenleaf. _She clung to her frustration and suppressed lust and wounded pride. Fuck Lor'themar for playing with her. For treating her like a prisoner one minute, his equal the next, always keeping her guessing, reminding her that she lived or died by his leave. Fuck Lor'themar for making absolutely_ everything _complicated. Fuck Lor'themar for being the fucking Regent fucking Lord of fucking Quel'Thalas instead of just some man, because if he'd just been some man, some ranger, even just some blood elf, maybe they wouldn't have to play these damn games._

 _She still hadn't gotten up, but now she was lying in wait. "Sinala?" She didn't respond. Come over here. Come on. She closed her eyes. He'd know he couldn't have killed her with that throw, but he could have knocked her out. Let him think you're helpless. Let him feel_ guilty _. He stalked over to her slowly. "Sinala…"_

 _He crouched next to her and she opened one eye, trying to seem dazed. His face was torn between worry and competitiveness. He was in a bad mood tonight, so competitiveness won. He leaned over and closed his hands around her wrists. His fel-green eye blazed. He bent to her ear, put his mouth right at that spot he knew made her mewl, and murmured in a low, honeyed voice, "Do you submit?"_

 _She closed her eyes once more, gathering her strength. Then her eyes snapped open and she hissed, "Never!" Before he had even processed her words, she drew her knees up hard, knocking him in the stomach, sliding her wrists out of his grip to land a punch square on his jaw while he was still dazed. Then she shoved him off of her and vaulted to a standing position, her knuckles stinging. Was one of them broken from contact with his jaw?_

 _Mistake, mistake, mistake. She should have gotten him in a hold and pressed her advantage, forced his submission immediately. Green eye sparking, he shoved hard at her knee, causing her to shriek and topple over next to him, again right onto her back. Before she'd even fully registered that she'd fallen, he was stalking towards her on hands and knees. She was mesmerized by the movement of his muscles beneath his skin, all that light hair spilling over his shoulders, but most of all by that wolfish grin and the blatant lust etched into every line in his face._

 _Her brain was screaming at her to move, kick him now, while he was vulnerable, but instead she let him settle between her legs, his arms wrapped around her thighs, his face looking up at hers from where he hovered just inches from her now aching, wet sex, still wearing that grin. He dipped his head and nipped at her belt and it was everything Sinala could do not to buck her hips and keen for him. "You're fighting extra hard tonight, Sinala. Like you've got something to fight for," he teased, voice low, eye bright. "I did not realize we were playing for some sort of stakes. I'd have made sure you knew exactly what I am going to get when I win."_

 _Sinala tried to sit up straighter, but Lor'themar just grinned wider and dragged her back to him by the waist. "Yes, well, that's why I didn't tell you, right? Strategy?" she replied in a clipped tone. She glared indignantly down at him as she finally fully processed his words. "_ When _you win? Get fucked, Lor'themar," she growled._

 _He dropped the playful demeanor, and the white-hot lust in his gaze seared her. His fingers were digging into her thighs and oh she liked that too. "I'm trying, believe me," he growled back._

 _She almost couldn't look him in the eye. She wanted to give in right now, wanted him to rip her pants off and make her come with his mouth. Fuck her right on this floor. A part of her, probably her dignity, was screaming that she could still knock her knees against his head and probably stun him long enough to escape his grasp, but the scream was growing ever more distant and tinny._

 _And then she saw a smug smile begin to creep up on his lips as he realized he almost had her. Fuck him! Key word: almost. She yanked at his hair and said, "You're the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas. You don't have to try. Just have your guards drag whichever girl you like up to your office!"_

 _Intense lust morphed to intense rage. He yanked her hand out of his hair, not even seeming to notice the handful she took with her, and hauled himself up her body so that they were face to face, his hands pinning her hands above her head as his powerful thighs pinned hers._

 _"Damn you," he hissed, "Why are you fighting me? I can_ smell _how much you want it, want_ me _. You were begging me to take you right here with your eyes just a second ago and then you insult me! Why are you torturing us both like this?"_

 _Sinala spat in his face. "Damn me? Fuck you! Why do I fight you? Because you think you can just_ guess _and_ decide _what I want! Have you ever_ asked _me, Lor'themar Theron? No, you haven't, because no matter how much you like to play house with me and pretend you respect me and want my admiration for you to be genuine, you still think of me as your fucking prisoner. Your_ property _." It dawned on her vaguely that he might just decide she was not worth the trouble after this little tirade and kill her, but she didn't care. The look on his face when she'd spat in it, her pride, was worth dying for. It seemed he'd almost blinked all of the spit out of his eyes, so she worked up more saliva and spat again, aiming right for his good eye. "Guess what, Regent Lord? Some things are forbidden even you. You can't have me as your prisoner_ and _your lover. Either I have a free will and you deal with me as an equal when I disagree and you get to know that whatever I give is true and real, or I don't and you'll take me whether I like it or not without getting all mopey because I hate you when you do it. Pick one or the other, and choose carefully, because I say again,_ you cannot have both _. I will_ not _be your exotic little bird in a golden cage. I did not serve two thousand years in the Sentinel army for some brat descendant of a snotty Highborne to make me his geisha!"_

 _Lor'themar stared at her for a moment and said quietly, "I submit." He slid off of her and got up, offering her a hand, his face unreadable. Hesitating, Sinala finally took the hand proffered. He wouldn't quite look at her. "A healer will come by to tend to your wounds within ten minutes. Thank you for the game, Sentinel." He wasn't angry, not exactly, at least as far as she could tell. Probably he wasn't angry at her._

 _Was she going to die? It was looking like probably no, but she really wasn't sure. Lor'themar hadn't left yet. He was standing around where he'd been at the beginning of the night, watching her take off her earrings, but he was standing with his back to her now. Some bizarre aesthetic desire for symmetry and a perfectly understandable discomfort led her to the desk. She began putting her earrings back in. Click, click. Click, click._

 _She felt him move and tensed. I mean. He could also just kill me right here. Well. If he does, all that sparring practice might help me at least give him a run for his fucking money._

 _"Sentinel," he said softly, "may I offer you a gift?"_

 _Sinala continued putting in earrings, thinking. Okay, so she'd just yelled at him about not asking what she wanted, and now he was doing that, asking what she wanted. So probably no on the being killed front. On the other hand, was she going to be saying she forgave him all of this if she accepted? Because the fuck she did. The fuck she was going to._

 _He sighed and added, "It's not—I'm not trying to buy you. Just a token of my appreciation, whatever that's worth to you. No… strings."_

 _Finally Sinala turned to face him, finding that he was just inches away. Well, duh. The fact that he was clearly feeling contrite in some way wasn't going to fix his endemic inability to resist entering her personal space. She looked over his face, still not quite sure what he was thinking. "What is it?" she asked finally._

 _Lor'themar reached for the tip of his ear and took out one of the little gold hoops and offered it to her wordlessly, with a small smile._

 _Sinala found a smile tugging at her own lips. "It'll clash with the silver ones."_

 _A shadow of his earlier frustration passed over his face. "Just yes or no will be quite fine, Sentinel."_

 _She had an idea. She took a moment to regard him, sizing him up. He was quite nervous. Uncertain. Slowly she reached behind her and picked up one of her own little silver hoops from the table. His eyes followed her hand's movement with worry, then confusion. "Will you take one of mine as well?"_

 _To her surprise, he answered immediately. "Yes." Once again there was heat in his gaze, but for once it seemed he was trying to hide or control it. Heat or warmth? Both? He leaned a bit closer and said, "May I put it on for you, Sentinel?"_

 _Okay. So. Very much back in dangerous territory, but listening to his voice, looking at his eyes, it seemed he really was asking. Still, the right answer was absolutely no. And Sinala knew as soon as she had that thought that she was not going to give the right answer. "Yes," she murmured, trying to keep her tone neutral and her breathing even, not quite succeeding._

 _She tilted her head so her left ear was facing him, but he shook his head and gently tilted her face so that she was facing him fully once more. He ran his finger carefully but clinically along her ear, feeling the piercings. He found the topmost one and placed the golden hoop in it with a click. "Thank you, Sinala," he breathed, forgetting that he had apparently decided to address her by her title. "It looks lovely."_

 _She allowed herself a smile. "Thank_ you _, Lor'themar, but we're not done." She waggled the silver hoop at him. He nodded and brushed his hair behind his left ear. Carefully, she guided his head down so that she could reach. She felt three piercings in his earlobe and chose the topmost one. "There you are."_

 _He still looked a bit displeased. "Sentinel, thank you for your gift, but would you mind placing it a bit higher up on my ear?" He looked directly into her eyes. "I want to see it often. My token of you."_

 _Not trusting herself to speak, Sinala just nodded and took the earring out. Lor'themar bent until his lips were practically touching the crook of her neck so that she could reach the tip of his ear. She fastened it in and said, "There."_

 _He didn't move away. She could feel his breath on her neck and it was almost worse than the belt-nipping business. "Sentinel, may I kiss your neck?"_

 _The correct answer is no. The correct answer is no. The correct answer is no. "Yes, Lor'themar."_

 _He pressed his lips to her skin, a bloom of fire glowing under the place where his lips had been. She waited. Was that going to be it, or would he press his advantage? After all that yelling and fighting, would she really accept the same treatment, the same barrage of advances, if he just pretended humility at her? But something in her was certain he wasn't pretending. It was a fragile certainty, ready to break in an instant, but it was there._

 _He stepped back and said, "Thank you," in that same quiet, almost meek voice. "I would prefer to stay, but unfortunately I have business to attend to. Good night, Sinala." He touched her one silver earring amongst his gold ones and smiled at her. "I shall take good care of this."_

 _Unbidden, her hand moved up to touch his earring in her ear, nestled atop all of her silver ones. She saw pleasure, desire in his eyes. "Good night, Lor'themar." And he left._


	8. Chapter 8: Memory, Part 2

A/N: Implied Marius/Tehd here because I'm a demon.

It really wasn't that Mina was unsure why she'd ended up here. It was more that she was not sure which of the many candidates among her terrible life decisions had been responsible for this particular moment in time. She was in midair, struggling against an inquisitor's fel bonds. Syeris, of course, was back at camp, guarding Sinala, or more probably hunting just close enough to camp that when Mina returned and accused her of neglecting her duty, she could pull the whole la-di-da magical sight thing. She'd snap her green wings open and fold them around herself like a cloak and go full demon-voice, growling, " _The Illidari cannot be stopped!_ " and wait for Mina to either laugh or roll her eyes, and then she'd fold up her wings again and say in a more normal voice, "Seriously, Meen, how many times do I have to tell you that if something went wrong, I'd have sensed and dispatched any foe before you drew your next breath." Unfortunately, Mina had no way to get in touch with the demon hunter. Which in a way was a blessing. Caught with her pants down by a damned inquisitor. Oh, she'd never hear the end of it.

"I will have your secrets," the inquisitor hissed at her, and Mina rolled her eyes. Sure, this particular demon had gotten the jump on her, but if it thought a Warden was going to submit to any demon below the rank of Sargeras himself, it was in for a rude wake-up call. Just as soon as she could figure out how to get out of these bonds…

Inquisitors liked to take their time preparing their tools and spells. For such sinister-looking, serious demons, they were actually in some fundamental way stupider than a mo'arg. They placed such an emphasis on ritual, which made them predictable opponents, which made them dead. The most powerful ones could rely on the strength of their magic to compensate for this defect, but the rank and file quickly became nightsaber kibble with a well-placed kick and a few swipes of her moonglaive.

Well, usually. She'd been distracted, so she somehow hadn't heard this one hiss and begin to cast the prison she was now trapped in into existence.

It was just… something about the Sentinel they guarded was making her uneasy, and it wasn't one of the several sensible reasons. Okay, yes, her prejudice as a kaldorei and especially as a Warden still died hard; even though her glass house was a former blood elf monstrosity whom she valued as a friend and trusted as a business partner, the thought of a kaldorei, of a Sentinel no less, becoming the _consort_ of the leader of the blood elves rankled. The fel tattoo was unnerving. The Sentinel clearly mistrusted and slightly feared both Syeris and Mina. There was the shadow of inherent tension between a Warden and a high-ranking Sentinel: while Mina technically outranked Sinala in military terms, their actual social status in relation to one another was completely unclear. On the one hand, Sinala was a traitor; on the other, Mina was as good as one, by her association with Syeris and because while she technically was still a Warden, she had barely spoken to her sisters in arms since Inara left. Further, Sinala was the consort of a leader of the Horde, and Mina was a mercenary.

Ordinarily she liked running into other kaldorei in the course of her travels. The observance of the formalities, the sense of knowing where she stood with someone, was deeply comforting after spending so much time with Syeris, who had developed a galloping disdain for social nicety and manners even before "taking the blindfold," as she herself put it, and afterwards generally could and did exempt herself from any form of politeness whatsoever by being the most terrifying person in the room, except on the vanishingly rare occasion that she actually encountered someone scarier than she was. But Sinala's presence, by reason of the precariousness of both of their existences and positions in relation to kaldorei society at large, only increased her own unease and doubts about her position and the path she was on.

But even that wasn't the real reason she felt a bit off-balance in the woman's company. She hadn't seen it when Sinala had been dolled up in that blue sin'dorei gown, nor when she was cooing with the Regent Lord as they said their goodbyes. But last night, she had been on guard duty while Syeris slept and the Sentinel tried to sleep. Mina heard faint sounds from Sinala's tent until finally she poked her head out of the flap and said, "I'm, er, sorry to bother you, Warden, but I am… feeling ill again."

"I am sorry to hear that, Sentinel Greenleaf. We have some bandages already prepared. If you wouldn't mind coming to sit here by the fire, I am happy to assist you." Sinala nodded and walked over, sitting by Mina's side and sweeping her hair away from her neck, revealing green- and red-soaked bandages, like a gory mockery of a Winter Veil decoration. Mina could not help wincing in sympathy. As a Warden, she knew enough to be able to remove and replace these bandages without hurting Sinala unduly, and suddenly as she was very slowly prying the cloth from Sinala's light skin and inhaling the light floral scent coming from probably her hair, she… remembered. Remembered Inara. Remembered so strongly that she couldn't even see the campfire, the shocking violet of Sentinel Greenleaf's hair, the dirty bandages splotched with two types of blood. All she could see was the warm wood of the inn's walls and of the tub.

It had been some days after they were married, and Inara's hair, though indigo and not violet like Sinala's, had also been long and swept over her shoulder so that Mina could wash her. Mina squeezed the washcloth against Inara's neck, watching the water run down her wife's spine, watching Inara shudder with pleasure at the warmth, and she wondered how she'd been allowed to have a woman so beautiful at her side for the rest of her life. Prescient, as it turned out. She hadn't been.

The memory ended and with a shock she realized that the unease she felt around the woman in front of her was due to some indefinable correspondence, some fundamental similarity Mina couldn't name, between her and Inara. It was so subtle, but something in this woman's bearing, some glint in her eyes, reminded her exactly of her lost spouse. Her wife's name drummed in Mina's ears and her face thrummed through her mind, but Mina managed to finish tending to Sinala's wounds in silence. When Sinala left to return to sleep, the ghost vision of her wife faded, but she'd been unable to dismiss that shaken feeling. It lingered like the aftereffects of some drug. And now, it had gotten her captured by a demon she didn't even respect enough to be irritated by.

Mina narrowed her eyes. The inquisitor was beginning to cast something. Time to get it together and focus on how she was going to extricate herself. She closed her eyes and tried to Blink, but apparently this inquisitor was powerful enough that its bonds could stifle magic that small. What other options did she have? Summon an avatar? Try to enter stealth, in hopes that she would lose enough of her corporeality to slip through the bonds? She went for stealth next. The bonds felt… looser, just for a moment, before she felt her body jerked painfully back into full physicality by the magic. Oh, what would Maiev say, looking on her now? She could imagine the former priestess's sneer.

The inquisitor turned to her and cackled, red eyes glowing under its hood. "I will wrench the secrets from your soul!" it screamed, and Mina gritted her teeth as it lashed her mind with shadow magic. The inquisitor was clearly more powerful than she'd thought. Pain pulsed through her entire head, but awful memories were drawn out too. _Demons everywhere. Demon_ hunters _, the fel stink of them, the twisted forms, worst of all the_ _inscrutable eyes. She knew she had not seen Syeris that day the Vault shattered, but her memory added her in anyway, her skin red, her non-eyes blazing fel energy as she screamed, transforming into her hulking demon form. Inara's eyes, the last night before she would tear them out with enchanted blades. Inara's eyes after the ritual, burning with fel energy. Inara's eyes._ She was so weak. So weak it did not even shock her to realize that she might die by this inquisitor's hand. The second it conjured Inara in her mind's eye, she knew she was done for. To live for so many thousands of years. To train as a Watcher, to ascend the ranks, to become a Warden. To lose her wife and be spit up from the Vault into a world where her mentor was mistrusted at best, where her order's failures had been made so terribly manifest, to have fallen so low that a demon hunter was her only friend, and then to be tortured to death by something so maudlin, so mawkish, so _idiotic_ as a fucking _inquisitor_!

A new voice cut through her muddled consciousness. "Warlock, that is a _Warden_. I may have learned to accept a certain measure of indignity in associating with you, but this is a bridge too far."

A gravelly, echoing voice, cavernous as the grave, yet somehow—playful? "Marius, in _front_ of the Warden is a demon. You are a demon hunter. Ipso facto, _kill it_."

"What? You're not going to try to enslave it first? Get it to summon even more demons for you to play with, perhaps?"

"Felbane, you know quite well the only demon I am interested in playing with is you. Now, _get_. I want the tome it has."

A sigh and suddenly Mina was dropping onto the cave floor. She was lightly stunned, but she could see her moonglaives across the room through the whirl of someone else's glaives cutting into the inquisitor. As quickly as she could, she scrambled across and grabbed them, whirling into an attack position and leaping to kick the inquisitor's jaw. Her kick landed well, silencing the fiend's spell, and she leapt again, preparing to slice off its head. Unfortunately, the newcomer got there first.

A demon hunter. Of course. But he wasn't alone. She turned towards the entrance of the cave, where an undead human in a caster's robe was walking in to join them, the bones of his feet clicking against the stone. Mina was glad of her mask, which hid her disgust at the undead's rotten scent. It wouldn't do to register apparent disgust at one's saviors.

Speaking of which. "I thank you both," she said. "I am truly in your debt."

The demon hunter grunted. He was a night elf with forest-green hair and medium-purple skin. Fel-green tattoos spired up his chest. "It is not for you that we killed the inquisitor, Warden. The warlock requires its tome."

"Ah." Well, that made things rather awkward then. So did Mina. "Well, that is rather unfortunate, as I take no pleasure in killing those who have aided me, however accidentally." She raised her glaives, bending once again into an attacking stance. "Thank you again, and apologies in advance…"

But the demon hunter was too quick for her still-sluggish mind, and trapped her in a fel prison. _Elune. Twice in one day. I really must be slipping._ "Apologies, Warden," the demon hunter sneered, "but I'm afraid I cannot permit you to take the tome, or to harm myself or my associate." He sniffed suddenly. "What does a Warden need a Tome of Fel Names for, anyway? Not as though you can read it."

"I hunt a dreadlord, and I know someone who can," said Mina simply.

The undead warlock walked up to her, stroking his chin and holding the tome half-open. "Is _that_ so," he said. "That's quite a project, even for one such as yourself. Tell me more."


	9. Chapter 9: Weak Wills

"Hey. Sentinel." The demon hunter was poking her horned head into Sinala's tent, and it was a struggle not to react. She forced her hand away from her dagger, slowly, and hoped that Syeris did not catch her movement.

"Oh, it's okay. I look like things you've been ordered to kill for thousands of years, twice over." A toothy grin. "Touching also that you think that little needle of yours might do anything."

"You're quite right," Sinala retorted, "but I should actually mention that I've been ordered to kill things that look like you for longer than you've been alive, so I'd not be _so_ dismissive just because the first time you met me I was dressed like a courtesan."

Syeris blinked. Was she offended? Incredulous? Indifferent? Sinala was not sure. It was really hard to read the expression of someone whose eyes you couldn't see. "…Right. Well. Anyway, the Warden's gone missing, and I can't leave you here by yourself. So we're going after her together."

Sinala crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "And if I have a fit?"

Syeris shrugged. "Got bandages in my pack, and fel blood anytime you need it," she said, pointedly showing Sinala her wrist.

Sinala could not keep back a shudder. "You'd… use your own blood to bandage me?" she asked uncertainly. "Isn't that a little risky?"

The Illidari grinned. "For you or for me? For me, the answer to that question is always 'yes, and I don't care.' For you, well, all I can say is that your other option is hoping we find Mina pretty fast, since she had all the extra felblood." She snapped her fingers. "So, you know, chop-chop. We're heading out in five."

Sinala froze, paralyzed by the level of umbrage she felt towards this… this… insolent _thing_. At least in Silvermoon, the disdain had been veiled, cloaked in obeisance and fear of what might happen if Lor'themar discovered that someone had treated her unacceptably. Never in her life had she been treated with such utter _familiarity_.

Unthinking, she yanked the tent flap open and stalked over to where Syeris was packing up their things. "I will _not_ accept such treatment! You are entirely out of line and I will not be told to—" she sneered angrily—" _chop-chop_ by a—a _creature_ like you!"

Syeris turned and coolly raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Guess being the Regent Lord's _consort_ has rather rubbed off on you. And so soon, too."

Sinala shrieked and lunged, ripping her dagger from its sheath at her waist, aiming straight for Syeris's throat. But just as she was about to slash, the demon hunter was no longer where she'd been, and she stabbed uselessly at a puff of fel-green smoke before falling to the ground in a graceless heap. But her body, weakened though it was, had not forgotten the months of sparring with a former ranger lord of Quel'Thalas, so she leapt again to her feet and whirled to face Syeris, who was now standing by her tent, arms crossed and wearing a disdainful half-smile.

Sinala lunged for her smug face again, and again Syeris waited till the last possible moment to fade out from under her. This time, however, when Sinala was about to fall to the ground, she felt herself freeze in midair. Fel energy wrapped around her limbs, immobilizing her. Gritting her teeth, she tried to struggle against this strange prison, but to no avail.

Syeris finally walked around to face her. "Listen, Sentinel. I don't want to hurt you. And I won't hurt you, because besides the fact that your man would have my head, maybe the heads of our entire order, I actually like you. But you need to understand that I'm not your servant. I'm gonna do what I have to in order to keep you safe and hopefully get rid of that nasty mark you have on your neck, but I don't have to care whether you like my methods and I'm not going to bow and scrape. Understood? Good." She let Sinala drop to the floor again, and she hissed in pain. Syeris briefly eyed her again and withdrew a bottle full of shimmering red fluid from her bags. "Health potion. It'll help with those bruises."

Sinala was angry, near angry enough to refuse the potion out of spite, but she considered her options. The Illidari had made it clear she was going to be dragged along whether she liked it or not. She had promised her husband that she would at least try to go along with this harebrained scheme. And if she tried to escape, where would she go? Back to Silvermoon, having no idea whether Lor'themar was home or not, having no token besides a single gold earring that could be anyone's to set her apart from any other night elf? Back to Darnassus, only to be dragged to Stormwind for execution as soon as she was recognized? Besides, at this point she was intimately familiar with controlling her feelings in order to manipulate someone stronger than her. She would get back at Syeris later. _Sleep with one eye open, if you do sleep, Illidari_ , she thought, glaring at Syeris's tattooed back.

Which suddenly tensed, huge green wings whipping out with a snap from Goddess-knows-where. Sinala stumbled back, her body instinctively readying her to rush off into the woods if the Illidari turned on her. "Someone's coming," Syeris hissed. "Get in the bushes. I know you kaldorei are good at hiding in the woods."

Sinala obeyed, practically diving into the bushes, adrenaline and the afterglow of the healing potion allowing her to ignore the pokes and scrapes of the branches, and Shadowmelded. She watched as Syeris drew her glaives from their sheaths on her back, face twisted into a snarl. Her eyes suddenly flared and she seemed to be looking off into the distance.

Then, to Sinala's complete and utter bafflement, the demon hunter straightened and started to laugh. She sheathed her glaives and turned to face a little to the left and called, "By Illidan's name, Felbane, you look even dourer than the last time we saw each other."

"And you are as frivolous as ever, Syeris," snapped the other demon hunter as he emerged. "You are barely worthy of the title of Illidari. Speaking of which, we have business with you." To Sinala's chagrin, he yanked Warden Clearwater forward and thrust her in front of Syeris. _Are these two half-sane, half-competent elves really going to protect me from a dreadlord that Lor'themar himself couldn't beat?_ "This Warden claims she's a friend of yours."

Syeris's expression barely changed. "She is. So you might want to unhand her, Marius."

Felbane's face was fully masked, so Sinala could not see his expression, but the set of his shoulders told her he was about to argue. " _Disgraceful_ ," he hissed at Syeris. "You are completely—"

"Ooh, Marius, just one moment! If you are going to attack her anyway, at least permit me to enslave her when you're done. This one is quite powerful," said a new voice that sent chills down Sinala's spine. She'd had a few encounters with the undead in her time, but she thought that no matter how many times she heard their echoing, eerie voices, she would never get used to it.

Both Syeris and this Marius paused to stare at the Forsaken. At the same time as Marius began, "Tehd, I can't—", Syeris was scoffing, "Please, Marius, as though _you_ could defeat me." They looked at one another, and then back at this Tehd.

"…You are allied with this warlock. And I'm the disgrace."

"You are!" said Marius hotly. "Tehd may be a dangerous, relentlessly malevolent fool, but he was not responsible for keeping us imprisoned unjustly for ten years!"

"Oh, Marius, you cannot possibly continue, or I shall swoon on the spot," the undead's gravelly voice intoned as he rested the back of his hand on his forehead like a damsel. "My man is such a flatterer."

Syeris looked genuinely gobsmacked. Her head darted between Marius and Tehd for a solid minute. Next to her, her shoulder still roughly gripped by Marius, Mina also looked completely bowled over and a little too green even for a night elf. Marius's face was invisible beneath the full-length veil, but his ears were drooping in a way that suggested dire embarrassment, and they were flushed a deep purple. And Tehd was laughing hysterically. _Either I've lost the plot, or the world has. I truly am not sure which is worse_ , thought Sinala, straining to keep her limbs still.

Syeris rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. "Okay. Marius. I am not going to ask. And in exchange, you _will not_ tell me. You either," she said, gesturing to Tehd. She sighed and continued, "Look, I'm not going to argue with you about who's going to tattle on who to Daddy Illidan first—"

Marius lunged at her, shoving Mina aside and slamming Syeris against a tree in a rush of fel energy, trapping her in place with his warglaive across her shoulders. "You dare insult the Master!" he screeched. "I will take your head!"

Syeris's eyes blazed beneath the black of her blindfold. "I assure you, Marius, you really won't," she said quietly. For an uncomfortable moment, Sinala was reminded of Lor'themar. Sure, he would yell and growl when he was angry, but when he was ready to kill, you'd hear barely a whisper. Raising her voice, Syeris suddenly called, "And sheathe those moonglaives, Mina, this is Illidari business. Can I be sure you'll keep out of it too, warlock?"

"No," said Tehd pleasantly. "But I at least won't interrupt until things get really good."

"I can live with that," replied Syeris, and with a snarl she shoved Marius's glaive off of her, took hold of it, and threw it hard into a tree with a sharp _thunk_. Marius hissed and clawed at her bare stomach, but Syeris's tattoos gleamed and she was suddenly just under the treetops, leathery wings beating to keep her aloft. Her feet were daintily pointed like a dancer's, but the effect was somewhat ruined when Sinala realized they had become a pair of cloven hooves. Syeris's wings snapped shut again as she dove like a peregrine towards Marius's shocked, angry expression, her wings jutting out again as she landed a harsh kick straight to his nose to keep herself from following him onto the dirt.

Marius screamed and transformed himself, his body disappearing for a moment in smoke before he reappeared as a violet-black demon, his limbs twisted into hulking lumps of rippling muscle. He snarled and grabbed her hoof as he swung his remaining glaive towards her head. But Syeris caught the blade by its flat edge, smirking as she lashed her free leg towards his face again, knocking his head back with a painful-sounding crack. Unfortunately for her, Marius did not let go of her foot, dragging her down forcefully with him as he fell. Once they hit the ground, he let go and shoved Syeris in the chest, tumbling over her so that he was on top, pinning her arms beneath his legs. "You. Are. _Unworthy_ ," he hissed, landing a vicious punch to her jaw.

Syeris spat green blood and sneered up at him before taking a deep breath and launching a stream of fel fire right into his face. He leapt off of her, gripping his face, and Sinala heard the whisper of glaives coming free of their sheaths. Syeris stomped her hoof into Marius's back, pinning him, and taunted, "Then why am I more powerful than you, Marius Felbane? You squander our gift!" She shifted her weight, raising her glaive, but Marius reacted quickly, forcing himself up beneath her foot and slashing at her other leg with the glaive he still held. He missed, but Syeris was already off-balance, and so he was able to slash her thigh, vaulting into the air as he did so.

"Because there is no justice in this world!" he bellowed, darting toward her again, aiming his hoof at her stomach. She dodged in a burst of fel smoke, but Marius landed on his feet and whirled, advancing on her with his glaive and teeth bared. He slashed again, hissing, "You are inferior! It is _you_ who wastes our gift! You consort with Wardens and waste your time in the woods while the rest of us battle the Legion!" He slashed her chest, drawing a yell of angry surprise from Syeris, and pressed his advantage, leaping once more onto her chest, the point of his glaive at her throat. "Your dedication to the cause is _lacking_ ," he growled, drawing his weapon back to plunge it into her neck.

Her eyes glinted in dangerous amusement at his insult. Sinala held her breath in terror. Syeris murmured, "That may be so, Marius." She drew her arms up under his legs and dragged her claws down his back, digging in deep, and he yelped in pain, dropping his glaive. "But unfortunately for you, that is not what matters." She tugged her claws out of his body with a squelch and heaved herself up, knocking him off of her. She rolled and vaulted back into the air for a moment before shutting her wings, landing on his body with a heavy thump. She yanked his head up by his hair. "The only thing that matters," she hissed by his ear, "is _will_ , Marius. And yours is _weak_." She bashed his head into the dirt and rubbed his face in it. "You are an imperious, self-righteous fool, and you will die knowing it. The last two men I called master were Kael'thas Sunstrider and Varedis Felsoul. So I respect Lord Illidan's power, but I will _not_ —" she jerked his head back and slammed it into the ground a second time—"be betrayed—" a third time—"again!" once more. She jerked his head back up and Marius spat, choking and coughing on blood and dirt.

Syeris put the point of her glaive at his throat. "So you go ahead and grovel before a man who only sees you as a tool, and a poor one at that, because you don't have the strength to fend for yourself. And I," she sneered, "will be my own _master_." Her arm tensed as she prepared to slit his throat, but suddenly she flew back with a shriek. As she hung in the air, a green crystal formed around her body, freezing her face in an expression of indignant rage. Marius too flew up into the air, and black winds wrapped themselves around a green light at the center of his chest.

"Apologies, Syeris," said the Warden, walking up to her captured friend, as the warlock said, "Sorry, old chap," limping over to Marius. "The Warden and I agreed that you two probably shouldn't kill each other," he commented, squinting up at his partner.

"Indeed," confirmed Warden Clearwater. "So let's all try to play nice for now, hmm?" She waved a hand, and the green around Syeris's face faded slightly, though the crystal did not disappear. "Fine," she spat, and the Warden banished the crystal. Sinala could not suppress a smirk at seeing the haughty Illidari subjected to the same treatment she'd forced on Sinala herself earlier. Syeris fell to the ground, returning to her usual semi-elven appearance with a puff of black smoke.

"Marius?" Tehd inquired, and the other demon hunter nodded. He too was released, but more gently, the warlock floating him to the ground before undoing the spell. And Sinala too relaxed. Tehd patted Marius's shoulder, adding, "And I'm afraid she's got you bang to rights, my dear Marius. Honestly, do you understand nothing of the energies coursing through your pretty veins?" His rictus was almost fond. "I really wish you wouldn't rush in all time. My poor dead heart can't take quite so much excitement."

"And you, Syeris, really must not keep picking fights," the Warden scolded. "Save your strength for the job." Syeris grumbled indistinctly, but made no further comment. Warden Clearwater sighed and turned to the warlock. "Now let's patch our respective idiots up and see what we can do about the tome." The Warden walked over to their bags, which were conveniently near Sinala's hiding place. Rustling through her things, not looking up, the Warden murmured, "Terribly sorry about all this, Sentinel, but you should probably stay hidden for now." She surreptitiously shoved an alchemist's flask full of silver liquid towards Sinala's foot. "Stealth potion. The demon hunter could probably see you if he tried, but he's not looking. Unlikely either of those two idiots will recognize you, but I don't want to take the risk. We'll get rid of them as soon as we can."

"Understood," Sinala murmured back. She risked breaking Shadowmeld for a moment to pick up the potion before fading again into the shadows. She thought with a pang of Lor'themar. _Never a dull moment since you entered my life, my love_ , she thought with a sardonic grin. _Oh Elune, just let me live long enough to see his face again. Please._


	10. Chapter 10: Felsoul

The sting of her wounds harmonizing with the usual incessant song of her pain, Syeris had to admit that Mina was right. She'd played both fights today badly, let her anger and pride take control. She could feel the Sentinel's resentful gaze on her from the shadows as she and Mina negotiated with Marius and his warlock, and Marius himself was looking on her none too kindly. It turned out the warlock was fairly amenable to letting Mina and Syeris gather the information they needed on Lordamus from the tome as long as he could keep it afterwards. She translated aloud from the tome as Mina scribbled notes in her leatherbound journal, Tehd tending to Marius's wounds as they waited, and within the hour they were ready to part ways. She wanted to kill something, but first she needed to deal with this.

She walked over to where Marius sat by the fire. "Felbane, a word?"

His eyes glowed angrily behind his veil. "Truly, Syeris, does your pride know no bounds? You defeated me. Enough."

"I will not attack you again, Marius. I just want to talk," she said, her voice firm but betraying no contrition. She felt Mina's eyes on her back, a warning. "I'm pretty sure my partner would lock me back up in the Vault herself if I did attack you, provided your warlock didn't get to me first," she added.

"Fine," he snarled, and rose to his feet. She walked into the woods, glancing back to ensure Marius was following her, careful to avoid Sinala, until they reached another, smaller clearing. "What is it?" he snapped.

She turned to face him. "Marius, we are on the same side." She grimaced. "I… fighting you was stupid."

"Of course it was," Marius said disdainfully. "You never could keep your tongue in check."

Syeris considered snapping back that he was the one who started it, but she forced herself to calm down. "I have no desire to hurt you." She paused. "Well, that's not true, but it would be incredibly unproductive for us to quarrel every time we see each other."

Marius snorted. "You know, since Varedis was so dear to you, you'd think you might have learned something from his betrayal." He looked straight at her and continued in a voice full of quiet nastiness, "You are just like him, you know. So full of rage, and pride. You mock the rest of us for our submission to Lord Illidan, but submitting to him as we do is far better than submitting to your own pain and anger. It was Varedis's own arrogance, not the demon inside him, that led him to defect to Kil'jaeden."

Rage threatened to cloud her mind again. _How dare he! No understanding. Weak. Weak. Show him how strong you are. Teach him a lesson. Tear out his useless throat!_ She closed her eyes and focused, retreating to the core of herself, that last shred of who she had once been that kept her from giving over entirely to the darkness, from becoming something cruel and terrible that would destroy anything in its path simply to feel the thrill of annihilation. From becoming a demon. She opened her eyes. "I _am_ just like him, Marius," she said, looking him right in the eye. "With one difference." She unsheathed her glaives and he tensed, but she only dropped them to the ground and bowed before him.

He was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "Perhaps." She rose and replaced her glaives. "I accept your apology, Syeris. I will not fight you unless you give me good cause." He pinned her beneath his gaze. "But be sure you keep control. Know that I will be watching you. We will all be watching you. And if you show any signs of following in your master's footsteps, I will not hesitate to plunge my glaive right through your heart."

Syeris inclined her head meekly. "I would expect no less."

Marius nodded at her and went back to their campsite, leaving Syeris to her thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11: Memory, Part 3

A/N: Some sexual content in this chapter. Enjoy if you like that sort of thing, skip it over if you don't!

This time, one of their conversations, when it was slowly getting easier between them, in her basement cell. Her nose was full of the scent of his pipe smoke. _They were lying side by side on the floor, having torn the blankets off the bed because there wasn't enough space. Well, not enough space if they didn't want to be on top of each other, which, okay, Sinala was beginning to admit that she wanted to be on top of Lor'themar or under him just a little bit, but that position definitely was not conducive to civilized conversation, which just now she wanted more._

 _He was speaking and smoking, his pipe cupped in one of his palms, lying on his back. He'd wave it around periodically, whirling his wrist in a loose circle when he was searching for words, his other hand tucked behind his head. Sinala lay on her back too with her head turned towards him, her hands crossed over her stomach, listening. "You lot really couldn't possibly understand. Think about it. I mean really imagine. One day you've got a functioning society, right, with a full government, lots of people, rich, poor, everyone, right? Facing a threat, at war, yes, but basically whole. And then the next day, ninety percent of your entire nation is dead and although one member of the royal line has survived, he is Light knows where, so the government, like the_ entire _government, is you and your best friend staring at each other, going_ so what the fuck do we do now _? And just when the prince comes home and you think he_ must _know what to do, he is Kael'thas Sunstrider, the light of your people, he says, hey you, Farstrider, you're in charge now while I go on some jaunt to Outland and by the way, I'm taking the best and brightest of the survivors, so good luck fighting off the rest of the Scourge and rebuilding our entire civilization without them!"_

 _"We had the War of the Ancients," Sinala said mildly._

 _"Ah, yes, but again, not the same, not the same." He took another drag, blowing smoke through his nostrils. "Did you know that most of us are the only members of our families who survived? No one even remotely related to me lived through the Third War, other than myself. Rommath had many children, grandchildren." His heavy silence told her that all of them were dead. "I'm not asking for your pity, Sinala. I'm just explaining what happened to us. That it was a disaster, in the fullest sense of the word."_

 _That's not really true, Sinala thought. You aren't asking for my pity because you know I'll give it. Whether I want to or not. You know I like you too much not to. But then what kind of a person would I be if I could feel_ nothing _on hearing something like that, just because the people it happened to are the wrong shape, wrong faction?_

 _"Do you remember?" he asked quietly. "What you thought, what you felt, when you heard?"_

 _She sighed. "I… thought and felt what you might think. That sort of distant chill of despair you get when you hear of a tragedy abroad. Relief that it was happening far away and not at our doorstep. I never imagined that the Scourge might come for us."_

 _Lor'themar was smiling a strange little smile. "Thank you for being honest," he said, an ironic lilt to his voice. Sinala flinched and was about to protest when his face went serious and he asked, "Do you think it would have made a difference, if you'd known? If you'd been… a seer, let's say, and you knew what a threat the Scourge would become to all of Azeroth?"_

 _Sinala tugged a piece of her hair irritably. "Well, what do you mean? Like would I have asked Tyrande to send troops or something? Lor'themar, please, if I had that kind of authority, you couldn't keep me here." It was Lor'themar's turn to flinch, but she continued, "If we had all known what a threat the Scourge was, right from the beginning? I really don't know. To be honest, I think Tyrande and Malfurion still wouldn't have done anything until the war came to our forests. We had a lot of faith in our isolation. In Nordrassil. A_ lot _of faith."_

 _"I can't blame you for that. We had a lot of faith in our gates and the Sunwell." He laughed, smoke puffing from his nostrils. "I'm sorry. Getting us mired in dark memories." He looked over at her wryly, his eye twinkling with humor. "I'm really no good at this, am I?" He gestured between them._

 _Offended, excited, faintly terrified, Sinala balked and said, "What do you mean?"_

 _He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. "Sinala, I really doubt that I am the first man who's expressed an interest in you in two thousand years. And I know you're not completely indifferent to me, either."_

 _"You_ are _the first blood elf to express an interest in me," she snarked, folding her arms protectively across her chest. She was not going to dignify the second sentence with a response._

 _He shrugged easily, still smirking slightly. "Just as you like. I'm really not saying anything other than that I think you're sexy, and I'm interested in learning more about you. Take it however you choose." He took another drag from his pipe and said more quietly, "I haven't forgotten what you said. I'm trying to be respectful of that. But I also want you to know that I like you. That you… move me." His gaze burned into hers and Sinala wondered how they always ended up in this position. "I hope you'll forgive me that small selfishness."_

 _Sinala laughed uncomfortably, tugging at an earring, and deflected. "You know, Lor'themar, you really have this habit of asking for things you know you'll get anyway. I don't understand it."_

 _"Hmm. Something you learn to do often, in politics. Rommath says it makes the other person feel considered, especially if they're agreeing to something they find unsavory or undesirable."_

 _She blinked at him and said dryly, "I shudder to think of how you managed before the Grand Magister became your love coach."_

 _"Ha! If you're scandalized by that, you should hear Halduron's advice on wooing. All he's ever done is smile and beckon. It works, too."_

 _Sinala couldn't stop herself from asking, "And you?"_

 _The tension was back. Lor'themar's chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. "Oh, I tended to belong to the Halduron school before I was made regent. Even after I lost the eye." He fixed her with a lazy grin, his eye hooded. "After all, a dashing young Farstrider is rather difficult to resist when he turns his charms on a young lady." He rolled onto his stomach and leaned closer to her until their faces were mere inches apart and her blood boiled, her body screaming for his touch. Heat was pooling between her legs and she unconsciously opened them a little wider. She could feel the sweet warm weight of desire caressing every limb, every inch of skin._ Fuck _, she thought,_ why is he so good at this? _He was magnetic, he made her ache with a smile, her desire for him was so adolescent and almost irresistibly intense and it was just so unfair. His grin widened and she could see his canines glint in his wide mouth. He finished, "Especially if I promised to keep the uniform on."_

 _"I have a uniform too," she said, cross at herself and latching on to the first safe topic her mind could conjure._

 _But he just laughed and said with a sly grin, "I know. You look almost as good in yours as I looked in mine." He guffawed at her indignant expression and said, "Go on, tell me I'm a dog. It's true, too."_

 _She swatted at him, her irritation half playful, half genuine, but he caught her hand, weaving his fingers through hers, and teased, "Oh, now I know you like me, Sinala. You're quite capable of connecting a slap when you want to, and yet you let me stop you."_

 _"Not being slapped is kind of a low bar to clear," she said, but she didn't take her hand away. In a second, she told her rational side._

 _"Perhaps," he agreed, "but it's a start, isn't it?" She didn't answer, but he didn't seem bothered. They sat in slightly more-than-companionable quiet as he played with their joined hands, stroking her knuckles and lifting under her pinkie, miming checking underneath it "to search for hidden daggers," he joked in a soft, warm voice._

 _"Sinala," he said at length, his gaze still on her hand in his, "what would have happened if things weren't how they are?"_

 _She had a feeling she knew what he meant, but she had been avoiding that question like the plague of undeath, so she stalled, "What do you mean?"_

 _She attempted to inject as much_ please rethink this, Lor'themar _into her tone as she could, but he either didn't catch it or had decided to ignore it. "I mean, what if we were just two rangers who met at that place up in Highmountain where all the hunters are gathering, or something?"_

 _"Never been," interjected Sinala, but he continued._

 _"What if I were a kaldorei? One of your Sentinels, and we were thrown together on some mission for the Alliance." He grinned for a second. "I mean, I'd be uglier, for sure, but… what would you have done?"_

 _She wanted to snap at him, but her voice came out gentle as she said, "Oh, Lor'themar, come on. What's the point of a question like that? Is there any answer that isn't painful? That's like asking what if the Third War never was."_

 _Instead of flinching as she expected, his grip tightened on hers and he looked her in the eyes. "_ Please _, Sinala. I have to know."_

 _All this feint, dodge, parry. Aren't you tired of it too? said a part of Sinala's heart. She swallowed. "How many days have I been here?"_

 _His eyes narrowed and he flicked an ear in annoyance. "Sinala, don't toy with me—"_

 _"Just answer the question!" she nearly yelped, and he paused, looking slightly shaken._

 _He thought about it and said, "I think it's… one hundred fifty days, now. Almost half a year."_

 _She took a deep breath and looked into his face. She said, "Then I'd have bedded you about one hundred fifty times, now. At least. Probably more."_

 _It was fun to watch him choke slightly in shock. She grinned saucily at him and added, "And I think you'd have made a fine kaldor—"_

 _She was cut off by his lips crushing against hers. Oh Elune, he felt so good and she was so lost, twining her fingers in his hair, opening her mouth so her tongue could dance with his, moaning as his insistent fingers trailed fire up and down her sides. He was only half on top of her, and that wouldn't do, so she tried desperately to push his lower half between her legs by shoving at him with one calf._

 _He broke their kiss laughing and asked, "Are you kicking me? Sinala, I assure you I'm willing to try whatever will please you in the bedroom, but can we please at least discuss it first?"_

 _She flushed to the tips of her ears and looked at the ceiling, muttering, "No. Wanted you closer," not willing to admit that what she really meant was "I wanted to rut against your crotch like an animal in heat."_

 _"Oh?" He smiled and crawled over her so that their bodies were fully aligned. "Is this better?" he asked, his voice dripping honey, leaning close but not resuming their kiss, staying just out of reach of Sinala's lips. His voice got rougher as he stared urgently into her eyes and continued, "Just tell me exactly what you want, and I'll do it. I want to fuck you so well they'll hear you screaming for me all the way in Darnassus—"_

 _"Shut up," Sinala gasped and grabbed his chin, dragging his mouth to hers for another hard, desperate kiss. Her body blazed, and she was so wet and needy for him, actually mewled on thrusting against him and discovering that he was as needy as she was, but his comment slowly brought her back to reality and she broke away from him. It stung. Her body wanted this so much and it punished her at the mere thought that she might not let this man ravish her when he made her feel_ that _good from two kisses. But she had to ask. "Lor'themar, what are we doing?"_

 _He drew a ragged breath, looking down and to the right of her, like he was thinking. A very distant part of her brain registered that this was probably bad news, as Lor'themar was probably better at thinking on his feet than anyone she had ever met. After a few moments his eyes snapped to her face. The look in them was practically feral, the evidence of his desire blunter even than the hardness pressing into her hip._

 _"Sinala," he panted, "how good is your imagination? Mine is excellent."_

 _Her cunt and her heartbeat were throbbing and she was dazed, her mind fogged over completely by desire, so she had no idea what he meant. "What?"_

 _He raised a hand and stroked her cheek with the back of it, smirking slightly. "I'm proposing a little game of pretend. The scenario I mentioned earlier, where I'm one of your countrymen. Then, technically, it's not us fucking." He leaned down to her ear and growled, "I want you to show me what you'd do to me if you could have me all night, every night."_

 _"You're insane," she moaned as he kissed down her neck._

 _"Say yes anyway," he countered, hunger in his voice, slipping the tips of his fingers beneath her belt and letting them rest there, tempting her. "I swear you won't regret it. I'll make you feel so good," he murmured against her hair, the throaty desperation in his tone making her clit pulse in pleasure almost as if he'd actually licked it. He pulled away from her neck to grin wolfishly down at her, meeting her eyes. "I'll even pretend to be your subordinate. Would you like that? Ordering me to touch you just how you want, punishing me when I do it wrong… though of course I'm a little bad, so I might enjoy the punishment just as much as the reward…"_

 _Panting and clutching at his shoulders in desperation, she finally blurted out what was wrong with this picture: "I don't want to imagine someone else! I want to have you," she said, ignoring the mounting dread in her gut at the fact that she'd said this out loud, at what it meant, to press on and continue, "I want the man whose face I've seen every time I've made myself come for the past half a year. Who_ fights _for what he wants like no one I've ever seen. I want you, Lor'themar."_

 _He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide, expression torn between awe and liquid lust. He bent and pressed his lips to hers, gently, sweetly, almost chastely. He said against her mouth, "Then have me, Sinala."_

 _And who could have said no to that?_


	12. Chapter 12: Dinner, Plans

A/N: This is turning out to be a hell of a slow-burn! The next few chapters are focused more on character development, but I promise the plot will pick up soon. So please bear with me and don't forget to review if you're enjoying the story!

Sinala was sleeping, Syeris was looking over their notes on the tome, and Mina was cooking. She didn't like cooking much, and wasn't very good at it, but the other option was having Syeris do it, and Syeris would either serve meat that was practically raw or come up with something that tasted like burnt dust. Besides, while Syeris did not, as she'd expressed earlier, trust book-learning overmuch when it came to the pursuit of demons, a Tome of Fel Names at least passed muster with her as a reliable source. Besides, however much she whinged about it, anything that related to killing demons would ultimately keep her attention. That was the useful thing about demon hunters; so single-minded, firm of purpose.

Or, well. Mina agitated the rabbit meat in the saucepan, flinging some salt into it. Earlier today, though. The fight with Marius. That had been interesting. She understood that her friend had apologized, though if she asked Syeris directly, she would probably deny it.

And that certainly wasn't the first time she had seen Syeris lose her temper. When they'd first met each other, they'd been assigned to the same mission by the alliance of Azeroth's heroes that later became known as the Armies of Legionfall, along with Kuma and a warlock named Alester. Syeris had absolutely _hated_ Alester, not least because the twerp of a human kept begging her to let him enslave her, "just for a moment, and I'll give you right back to yourself, I swear," but mainly because he really had a lot of trouble not incessantly pulling the metaphorical nightsaber's tail.

Once, the four of them had just gotten back from a bad spot, a skirmish with more demons than they'd expected. They were all utterly exhausted and leaking blood. Kuma in particular had been quite badly hit, though he'd managed to stabilize himself with his own healing abilities and the help of Mina's health potions. And right as they were all about to pass out, leaning heavily against the walls of the cave where they'd taken shelter, not even bothering to try and get someone to stand watch, Alester had said, "Kuma… Kuma… hey, that's a Grimtotem name, isn't it?" Mina rolled her eyes at the memory. Kuma, expressionless, had slowly, carefully raised himself, walked over to where Alester lay across the cave, and punched him in the jaw, his huge fist glowing gold with holy energy. Then, as Alester moaned and sobbed in pain, he had healed the human, walked carefully back to the other side of the cave, and slumped down. But his eyes were still burning as he said, "Know this, human. I am a Sunwalker, loyal to the Horde. That is all you need to know." And that was how they'd found out that Kuma was, in fact, originally a member of the Grimtotem, a tribe now hostile to the Alliance and the Horde, and that Kuma _really did not like_ talking about how he was, in fact, originally a member of the Grimtotem. Of course once they'd all gotten through the shit together, the four of them were thick as thieves, so she had to admit to a grudging affection for Alester, and even Syeris probably would help him out if he ever really needed anything, but honestly, he had been almost supernaturally irritating.

But the way Syeris lashed out at Alester was very different from the way she'd lashed out at Marius. With Alester, it wasn't really _personal_. But it was clear that Syeris and Marius had some kind of history. Which was amazing. She knew that Syeris felt no especial love for most of her fellow Illidari, but she'd figured that they were at least on good terms with one another, bound together by those great sacrifices they were always on about. But from Marius's taunts and Syeris's replies, it looked like that was… not the case, to say the least.

"Mina, I'm not sure why you're giving me that weird look, but, you know, I want you to cut it out, so I'm going to complain to you about the Tome of Fel Names," Syeris said curtly.

"Elune-adore," said Mina dryly, "Go ahead."

Syeris raised an eyebrow of her own and said, "You know, I've been wondering—do you even still believe in Elune?"

"What!" Mina could hear her own voice cracking as she whirled to face Syeris. "What the fuck kind of question is that, Syeris Verdana? Of course I do!" She glared at Syeris, not even quite seeing her through the haze of indignant anger. "I know this has been a rough day for both of us, but you go _far too far_! Do not forget that I am still _a Warden_! Protector of the kaldorei, preserver of our traditions, our beliefs—"

Syeris threw her hands up in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay! Fuck, Mina, no need to get so worked up, I really didn't mean it like that."

Mina continued to glare for a minute or so, then sighed and allowed herself to relax and turn back to the rabbit, which was already starting to burn. "I really didn't mean it like that" was probably the deepest apology Syeris could manage. Every time she was faced with one of Syeris's non-apologetic apologies, she was very, very tempted to keep fighting, to make her actually say the words, "I'm sorry." But the fact of the matter was that that was what Syeris meant, and wasn't that what mattered? It would be cruel to bully her defensive friend over semantics. Taking the saucepan off the fire, she said, "So, the Tome?"

"Ah. Yes," Syeris said a little awkwardly. "So it's pretty useless. Just a description of the demon, pretty basic data, 'Homeworld: Nathreza,' 'Species: Nathrezim,' 'Likes: long walks on the beach,' 'Will not date smokers,' and so on."

Mina sighed. Unfortunately, Tomes of Fel Names were nowhere near as powerful as their counterpart, the Book of Fel Names. For one thing, they were highly inappropriately titled: no Tome of Fel Names contained the true name of any demon. If you were lucky, it mentioned a current base of operations, or another tome that _did_ have the demon's true name.

She cut off some of the rabbit and put it on a cracked and worn but hopefully pretty clean plate, handing it to Syeris. "So nothing at all useful then?" she inquired, turning to face the demon hunter and starting to work on her own portion of dinner.

"Er… not really, let me look for a few more minutes… nothing for the Sentinel?"

Mina shrugged. "She's sleeping off the day. Don't think it's worth waking her."

"Well, I don't have your medical expertise, but I think she should have food. Being infected with fel blood sucks. 'S like having a really bad flu. Gotta keep her energy up." Syeris flipped through the last few pages of the tome. "I'll hunt her something when I'm done with this." She paused suddenly and squinted down at the tome. "Ah. Think I have something. 'Last seen: forests of Lordaeron.' Shit."

"What?"

"He has some goddamn nerve. Warchief can't stand dreadlords. I understand one of 'em tried to snatch her city right out from under her. Sneaking about her lands is something I would very much try to avoid, if I were him."

Mina crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I mean, he was up in Quel'Thalas probably not too long ago when the Sentinel and His Lordship were hunting him, so it makes sense he'd be in that area. And it's a dreadlord. Even the weakest of them are masters of deception and disguise."

"Fine, but it's Sylvanas Windrunner. Have you seen that woman? She's enough to give even something like me the willies."

Mina paused for a moment to contemplate the concept of a demon hunter having the willies, then continued, "Well, who says the info's up to date?"

Syeris shook her head. "No, it is. It's magic, Meen. Should be accurate to the hour or so. So most probably that is where he is."

"So what's the plan? Drag Sentinel to Lordaeron, kill demon, deliver Sentinel to Regent Lord?"

"Or similar."

Mina thought for a moment and asked in a lowered voice, "If we kill him, will that get rid of the mark? Is that all we need to do, or do we need to force him to dispel it?"

Syeris tapped her chin. "I… am not sure. There is someone I can ask who'd know, though."

"Xal?"

She nodded, and Mina couldn't keep back a slight shudder. Xal seemed to be Syeris's only true friend, apart from Mina herself. Xal was a mute blood elf who got around her disability by "speaking" directly into your mind telepathically. She'd been a priestess of the Light before the change, and had augmented her ability to affect and influence others' minds in that capacity by consuming the heart of a dreadlord to complete her transformation. Feeling another presence in your mind was never a comfortable experience, so despite how helpful Xal had been on a number of occasions, Mina couldn't quite find it in herself to fully like the girl.

Syeris was sitting up on her haunches, setting the tome down. "All right. I'll find something for the Sentinel." She glanced over towards the tent. "And… keep an eye on her. Mark looks funny."

Before Mina could ask her what that was supposed to mean, Syeris had vanished into the woods.


	13. Chapter 13: Prejudices

Lorlathil. In the morning, they'd decided to stop there so that Syeris could send that letter to Xal and Sinala could sleep in a real bed. The Sentinel was clearly overjoyed to be among her own people again. Specifically, members of her own people who did not recognize and therefore revile her. Truth be told, Mina was also calmed listening to the dryads' cheerful chittering and seeing the squat little houses shaped from trees by druidic architects. However, if Syeris had been uncomfortable in the woods of Val'Sharah, she was practically radiating unease in the town itself. Her posture was almost hunched, her arms always either crossed over her stomach or uncomfortably straight at her sides, and she barely smiled or spoke. It was easy to see why. Mina felt a pang of guilt every time she saw the nervous, disapproving, or outright hostile glances her friend received, but Syeris did not complain, bearing their hatred with unusual grace.

The worst was when they had arrived and were walking towards the tiny inn located in the tiny town's square. A woman with green hair in two long tails was glaring at Syeris, her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing the robes of the Dreamweavers and looked from her manner to be fairly important. "Warden!" she called, turning the angry gaze to Mina. "Who is this?"

Mina shifted uncomfortably. "This is Illidari Syeris Verdana, Miss—?"

The woman's lip curled. "I am Sylvia Hartshorn, Emissary of the Dreamweavers. And I do not appreciate your bringing that… thing… to our forest, Warden. Please be sure she does not damage these sacred lands." She turned back to Syeris, whose face was utterly blank.

Even Sinala, who had seemed even more wary of Syeris of late, was staring at the demon hunter with a look of pity in her gaze. The Sentinel turned to Hartshorn and said, "Miss Hartshorn, I understand your concern, but it's not right to address a peaceful visitor to your town this way—"

"I did not ask your opinion, Miss!" snapped the Emissary, her eyes glowing with fury. Sinala's eyes flashed in turn and she opened her mouth to reply, but Mina put a hand on her arm with a warning look, staying her.

Mina turned back to the irate Hartshorn. "Please, Emissary, we merely wish to go about our business here in peace. I hope that is acceptable?"

Mina's soothing, respectful tones worked their magic, and Hartshorn relaxed slightly. "I advise you to do so quickly." Her gaze fell again on Syeris, whose eyes were darting between Mina, Sinala and Hartshorn. She looked confused and wary, unsure what to do. Finally she met Hartshorn's gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly beneath the blindfold. Hartshorn's eyes narrowed too, and she whispered, "What have you done to yourself, Syeris? You're more demon than blood elf."

A slow smile grew across Syeris's lips until it became a wide, slightly manic grin. She looked Hartshorn right in the eye and hissed menacingly, waggling her long tongue with clear relish. A line of thin, faintly green spit connected her long canine with the edge of her lip, and the fel fires of her eyes practically burned through the blindfold.

"Ugh!" Hartshorn backed away in disgust. She whirled to face Mina. "Go about your business here, Warden, but I warn you: control your _pet_ , or there will be consequences," she snarled, and then stomped off, accompanied by Syeris's nasty laughter.

Mina smacked her on the arm. "Elune, Syeris! Pull yourself together," she said in a harsh whisper. "She'd kick you out without a second thought!"

"Oh, please," Syeris growled, "She'd do that anyway! She thinks I'm an animal. Worse than an animal." She glared at Sinala. "And she's not the only one either." Sinala had the decency to look away guiltily. Syeris sneered and drew herself up to her full height. "Well, fine. Revile me and my kind. Hate us, go ahead. But remember that _we_ are the ones who gave everything to save this world, _including_ your ungrateful hides." She hissed again, earning even more worried stares from the Dreamweavers, dryads, and other adventurers traversing the square. "I'm getting real fucking tired of you kaldorei, I swear. Always better than everyone, always above it all, even when you've sunk exactly as low as anyone else." She spat. "If not lower."

Stung, Mina said quietly, "And you think you'd fare any better in Silvermoon? You said yourself they'd likely kill you on sight."

"Ha! Yes," Syeris laughed bitterly. "Because _my_ people, unlike yours, are fucking merciful. They wouldn't accept your aid with one hand and fling mud at you with the other." _They weren't_ your _people a few days ago_ , Mina thought resentfully. _And anyway, I don't see the sin'dorei refusing to work with demon hunters, either, though they hate them just as much as we do._

"You think your people above such?" Sinala's voice, calm with restrained malice, surprised Syeris, who jerked her neck around to face the Sentinel. Her face was as bitter as Syeris's own moments ago. "I assure you, you are very wrong. Do you think I didn't receive as many scornful looks and whispered comments when they thought Lo—my husband wasn't looking?" she whispered, her voice full of vitriol.

Unsettled, Syeris backed down slightly, shifting from foot to foot. "That's different."

"Is it, now?" said Sinala testily.

Syeris clenched her fists. " _Yes_ ," she replied, staring angrily into Sinala's face. "You—"

"All right, all right, let's not argue," said Mina, putting a hand on each woman's shoulder. "We have work to do. Sinala, come with me to the inn, you should rest. Syeris, go mail your letter and meet us there." Both grumbled, but the tension broke. With a final nod to Syeris, Mina put a light hand on the small of Sinala's back, ushering her towards the inn, while Syeris stalked towards the mailbox.

Mina sighed. _We'd better find that dreadlord fast, or I fear these two hotheads will kill each other first._


	14. Chapter 14: Kindness

Sinala was fuming. She'd actually had _sympathy_ for the Illidari, had defended her to a fucking _Dreamwalker_ , and this was how the woman showed her gratitude? By whinging about kaldorei intolerance and then turning that same intolerance on her? "What is that creature's _deal_?" she burst out to the Warden when they were finally alone in their room for the night. "How can you possibly stand her? She's so—so—"

The Warden held up a plate-covered hand. "She has her reasons, Sentinel. I know she is… frustrating. But life has not been kind to her."

Sinala rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in aggravation. "Oh really? And who, exactly, has life been kind to around here? Everyone on Azeroth has seen some shit. It's no excuse to run around antagonizing people all day!" She fell onto the bed with a thump, covering her face with her hands. "It's just… it doesn't matter whether I'm mean or nice to her! She's just always difficult for no reason!"

Warden Clearwater removed her helmet, releasing a long white braid. She tapped her pale violet fingers on its face thoughtfully and Sinala realized with a slight shock that she'd never seen the other woman's face. The Warden looked older than she expected, a few lines creasing around the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was not beautiful, at least not by elf standards. Her face was too harsh, her nose a bit too large for it. Her deep-set eyes were looking elsewhere. At last she turned back to Sinala and said, "Syeris is complicated, little Sentinel. She is difficult even for me to understand. But believe it or not, she does respect you. She wouldn't bother arguing with you otherwise."

Sinala let out a shuddering laugh. "That's comforting." She sighed. "She told me she liked me before. We—had a bit of an argument when you were gone." She colored slightly at the memory of Syeris's disdainful smirk disappearing into fel smoke. "I can hardly believe that. And if this is how she treats people she _likes_ , I'd hate to see what she does to her enemies."

Clearwater laughed, setting her helmet on the little bedside table. "Oh, she has a lot of fun with them, too. I love her, but she does have a tendency to play with her prey when she's left to her own devices."

Sinala shuddered and quietly asked again, "How can you stand her?"

The Warden shrugged. "She is what she is. Would you condemn a cat for playing with a mouse? It's in her nature." Sinala winced at the image, but Clearwater continued, "And besides, a lot of what she is is good. She's loyal and strong, stronger than you can imagine. Emotionally as well as physically. Most of the blood elves of the Illidari were elite servants of Prince Kael'thas. Brilliant magisters, battle-hardened warriors. They came from noble families with illustrious histories and famous names. And money. Syeris was a mere servant with no training in any class, and yet she survived their training and became one of their most powerful demon hunters."

Sinala nodded slowly, thinking of the fight with Marius. That strength. That sheer _ferocity_. She couldn't hold back another shiver.

The Warden walked over to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, sitting next to her on the bed. "But you needn't fear her. She is… different from us, yes. Different maybe from anybody in the world, even her fellow Illidari. But she would not harm you."

Sinala thought resentfully of Syeris dropping her to the ground from the fel prison. "I'm not sure I can trust you on that, Warden."

"Just Mina is fine," said the Warden, to her surprise. She patted Sinala's shoulder again. "And if you can't trust me, you should trust your husband. I don't think he would let you fall into the wrong hands."

Sinala sighed and nodded. She did trust Lor'themar, whatever her reservations about the Illidari. And it seemed that the Warden—Mina—had warmed to her as well, and would keep the demon hunter in check. She relaxed slightly, her shoulders slumping. "I do, but… this all has been… hard."

Mina smiled at her comfortingly. "I won't insult you by saying that I understand, but I can imagine. You are young and you made an—unconventional decision. And the world we live in is not an accepting place."

"Yes." Sinala sighed again, running her finger along her ear to find Lor'themar's earring nestled at the top of her own silver ones as she thought again of her husband. She thought of her favorite little expression of his, that rakish grin he sent her when he was teasing or flirting. Had he made it back to Silvermoon all right? He'd warned her he wouldn't be able to write them much, except to arrange the occasional meeting to check in. And what of Lordamus? Hopefully he'd forgotten about them, figuring that justice had been served by his curse on Sinala, but maybe he hadn't. He'd snuck into Silvermoon once before, and he could surely do so again… Her stomach clenched with worry for her love. _If he kills him, I'll find him myself!_ She thought fiercely, her fingers in her lap curling into fists.

"I can see you're not feeling too well," said Mina, worry deepening her crow's feet. "Why don't I get you some warm milk?"

Sinala blinked at her, a little offended. _Does she think I'm a child?_ But, on the other hand, warm milk did sound nice. "I would appreciate that," she said shyly.

Mina nodded. "I'll be right back, then." She rose from the bed and Sinala returned to her previous activity of staring at nothing, thinking dark thoughts. After a minute or two, she became aware of eyes on her, and turned to meet Mina's gaze once more. "Warden? Mina?" she asked. There was a strange look in the other woman's eyes. A kind of wistful happiness.

But then she shook her head and the look vanished, replaced with a sheepish expression and, to Sinala's further surprise, a faint blush. "I'm sorry. You just—you remind me of someone I knew once," she said softly.

Sinala smiled hesitantly at her, feeling strange. She'd had relatively few interactions with Wardens, but they usually seemed to be severe women firmly set on their tasks. She couldn't imagine one having other relationships, a past. And she barely knew this woman. She felt she was intruding on something private and painful, and she wasn't sure how to react. "Someone good, I hope," she said lightly.

Mina smiled sadly. "After her fashion, yes." The emotion fled her face and it reformed into an expression of businesslike brusqueness. "I'll return with your milk in a moment, Sentinel."

"Just Sinala is fine," Sinala said with a slightly more confident smile. It was only fair, after all.

Mina nodded at her with an awkward, fleeting smile of her own. "Of course, Sinala." The door shut softly behind her, her braid nearly getting caught in it.

Alone for the first time in several days, Sinala felt the weight of her anxiety lift slightly. She realized that even though she'd slept long and well the night before, she was still exhausted, the back of her neck throbbing with a sinister ache. She hated how much she was sleeping these days, but no amount of rest seemed to cure her constant exhaustion. Still, on their way to Lorlathil, Mina had told her they'd found some intel on Lordamus. Better to save her strength, then. She shoved her pants down her hips and kicked them onto the floor, groggily crawling under the sheets. As she closed her eyes, she tried to search for a pleasant memory of Lor'themar to carry her off. She found one quickly and she smiled. On the nights where she was in too much pain to sleep, after the curse had started its black work on her body, Lor would sing to her, stroking her hair, encircling her smaller frame in his warm, strong embrace. The lullaby was usually an old song common to both of their peoples, a love song, but one night she asked him to sing her something from his own people. He'd smiled softly at her and began, his long fingers in her hair and his deep baritone and the curling syllables of Thalassian lulling her to sleep. She could almost hear him as she finally drifted off. _Anar'alah, dalah'surfal, alandiel no benar talah_ …*

* _By the Light, beloved, I will love you through death._ I made this up from a mishmash of "real" Thalassian and whatever my brain thought sounded good.


	15. Chapter 15: Xal

A/N: So Xal's voice was supposed to be in bold, but it wasn't working out, so I'll do it in all caps, like Discworld's Death. I apologize for however annoying this may look. Once again, please review if you're enjoying the story! Updates coming really soon :)

Syeris was hunting. Having mailed her letter to Xal, she'd decided that she had earned herself a bit of a reprieve. Or maybe it'd be truer to say that she needed one in order to keep her head at least a little better than she had been. She really couldn't afford another scrap with the Sentinel in case she whined to her husband. Sinala and Mina wouldn't miss her for another few hours at least, so she'd gone into the woods surrounding Lorlathil and concentrated, scanning the area for any demonic presence she could eradicate. One nice thing about the world she'd woken up to when her cage in the Vault of the Wardens had been shattered was that it wasn't hard to find pretty weak demons she could kill for stress relief. Syeris grinned manically and gripped her glaives as she stalked through the trees, her body humming with the excitement of the hunt. This was what she had been made for. Literally.

She could see the bright shapes glowing green with fel energy coming closer and closer, easily outshining the dim outlines of the insignificant wood around her. Cool air moved over her bare arms and nearly bare torso. She'd heard that rangers could feel the spirit of the woods around them, could hear the very voice of the forest, made up of every living thing within it, but for her the woods were usually silent. At most they were aggressively inert, recognizing her for the unnatural thing she was and shutting her out in terror. She could see nature-magic as she could see any other kind, but everything paled in comparison to the fel, which stung her eyes with its brilliance, even in these weak demons. She squinted, focusing on them. Satyrs, apparently. Well, good. That should please the snooty Hartshorn well, and hopefully keep her off Syeris's back while they stayed in Lorlathil.

She crept closer, pulling the shadows around her with a sharp gesture. Not that the satyrs were paying attention. They were doing some sort of ritual with their strange hybrid magic. Once she'd tried to describe what she saw to Mina when they were up on watch together, but unfortunately there was no word in any language she knew to describe that queasy red-purple-green of the Emerald Nightmare. "So it's… tricolored, or something?" Mina had asked. Syeris quickly shook her head and said, "No, it's… all three colors at the same time. Separate, but like, melded together." She thought for a moment and snapped her fingers. "Like, you know, that ice cream? Comes in three flavors. Well, if you take your spoon and you mash 'em all up together you get this weird ugly light brown, but you can still see bits of the individual colors too. It's kind of like that but worse." Mina had shaken her head slowly in baffled wonder. "An Illidari explaining the color of magic to me using Neapolitan ice cream as an analogy. What has my life come to?"

She'd strike right when the satyr was almost finished casting. His compatriots were gathered around him in a circle, chanting in Eredun. Her breathing was deep and slow. The Illidari generally disdained rangers, viewing them the way most zealots view anyone devoted to anything not their own faith, but Syeris had been a fucking scullery maid before she took the blindfold and therefore did not disdain anyone apart from the nobs upstairs. Besides, a lot of the rangers' skills applied to hunting demons. One of Varedis's other students had been a ranger and she'd learned a lot about hunting from him before he died in one of the vicious practice duels the Illidari engaged in to cull the weak. Had she killed him? What was his name? She couldn't recall, but she could remember his gentle voice instructing her. "You have to lose yourself when you hunt," he'd explained. "The best way to avoid being spotted by your prey is not to be there in the first place, in a sense. A lot of novice hunters get too excited, too eager to prove themselves. But the forest—and demons—can sense any agitation, any disturbance. The forest knows itself and it knows you are not of it. So you have to be arrogant enough to claim your place, but humble enough that it will accept you. You have to move with your environment, including your prey, though it be your worst enemy. If you try to move against it, you'll always be caught out." In other words, he really talked a lot of rot, but at least it was effective rot.

The chanting grew louder and louder and the cloud of Nightmare magic grew to encircle the satyr. Syeris tensed, readying herself to leap. She thrust her glaives back and then forward, propelling herself into the air. She landed hard, burying the points of her glaives deep into the satyr's chest before snapping her wings open and yanking them back out with a wet noise and a whimper from her victim. Eyes blazing, she vaulted towards her next victim, slashing its throat open with a yell, spattering her chest and arms with green blood. She smiled briefly, watching the partly severed head flap and bob as its body fell, leaking more blood into the earth. Yes. This was what she needed.

Her moment of triumph was broken as one of the other satyrs hit her in the back with a curse. She wheeled slightly in the air with a grunt, but the magic was far too weak to do her any damage. She ignored it and turned on the caster, splitting him open from chin to cock with a vicious strike of her glaive. He had a moment to stare down in shock at his now leaking guts, a chunk of intestine poking out, before he fell over and died. Syeris whirled to face the remaining three satyrs, her eyes glinting with malice and threat. She ran at them crouched low, her glaive poised to slash through their stomachs, when two of them suddenly let out thick gurgles and slumped to the floor. The third followed shortly, dying silently and thus with slightly more dignity, collapsing on top of his colleagues. Syeris paused in confusion. As the bodies fell, they revealed a pair of thin, elegant swords glowing gold with holy energy. The swords were attached to arms riddled with geometric tattoos glowing magenta and a veiled face framed by long, pale-red hair and pointed ears.

Syeris blinked for a moment, dumbstruck, then grinned widely, a wave of joy crashing in her chest. She shunted her glaives into their sheaths with a screech of metal on metal and squealed, "Xal!" She ran at the other demon hunter, just barely missing the points of her swords as she tumbled the other into a tight embrace. Xal's arms gingerly encircled Syeris's waist as well. In her mind, Xal's rasping voice said, GREETINGS, SYERIS. IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN. Syeris messily kissed her cheek. "Xal, what the hell are you doing here? I just sent you a letter, actually, but there's no way you've got it already."

I SENSED YOUR NEED FOR ME, MY FRIEND. Beneath the veil, Syeris could see the shadow of a shy smile. MY MIND REACHES FAR, NOW. I HAVE BEEN PRACTICING.

"That's amazing," Syeris said warmly, pulling away slightly and placing her hands on the girl's shoulders to get a better look at her best friend. Her hands nearly engulfed Xal's shoulders. The other demon hunter's frame was much slighter than Syeris's own, willowy and demure as a typical sin'dorei beauty should be. She was physically much frailer than the other demon hunters, but to Syeris's magical vision, her body was alight, glowing with roiling fel and void energies and, trailing through and between the warring magics, a thread of holy magic. After her conversion, Xal retained a small fraction of her ability to call on the Holy Light. Incredibly rare, but Syeris had seen undead priests using the Light, and heard whispered rumors of a crazed death knight who had once wielded it to guard the necropolis Naxxramas against his very will, so it clearly wasn't entirely unheard-of for something as corrupted as a demon hunter to be able to access it. In other words, Xal was incredibly powerful. Syeris might be able to deliver a beatdown to a flea like Marius, but someone like Kayn or Allari or even Jace could definitely hand her her ass in pieces. Xal could probably even match them, or at the very least give them a run for their money. Beneath the mostly-opaque crimson veil she wore, Syeris thought she could see a few new scratches and scars. "You look well, friend," she said jovially. "Like you've been tearing into some new foes."

Xal's smile widened into a grin. I HAVE INDEED. She basked in her pride for a moment before her grin dropped off her face, replaced by a searching expression. She brushed a strand of Syeris's sweat-damp, bright blond hair from her face and rested her hand on Syeris's cheek as she stared hard into Syeris's eyes. Ordinarily such an intimate touch and someone else's eyes on her would make Syeris incredibly uncomfortable and she'd probably try to bite them after more than a few seconds, but she trusted Xal completely. They were both outcast's outcasts, scorned and pitied even by the other demon hunter trainees. Apart from their respective masters—Varedis in her case, Altruis the Sufferer in Xal's—they had been each other's only comfort during the painful transformation from elf to demonic monstrosity.

Xal's voice interrupted her thoughts. YOU HAVE BEEN PREOCCUPIED. Syeris nodded and opened her mind to Xal, letting her see the memories of the past week. I SEE. She paused and smiled slightly. LORDAMUS IS KNOWN TO ME. TO THE DEMON. I WILL GIVE YOU WHAT AID I CAN. MAY I SEE THIS SINALA? PERHAPS I CAN DO SOMETHING TO CONTROL THE CURSE'S SPREAD.

Syeris smiled and reached down to squeeze Xal's fel-burned hand. "Still a typical do-gooder priestess, I see. C'mon. We're staying in town."

Covered in the blood of their enemies, the two demon hunters vanished into the woods.


	16. Chapter 16: Sea Change

For centuries, Sinala had been an arrow in the quiver of Darnassus, of Tyrande Whisperwind. She was a soldier from a family of soldiers, and so she'd never questioned what her purpose was, what she was meant to do in life. The point of an arrow is to pierce the heart of a target, nothing else. So she had sharpened herself in service to Darnassus and emerged gleaming and doubtless. Nocked against bowstring after bowstring, she always flew true. Of course she was a person, with her own life and relationships and all the rest, but as a Sentinel she was also much more and much less. She belonged, all of her, to the kaldorei. And just as her soul was a servant of her people, so her body was a servant of her soul. She had always been headstrong, but she was not naturally a questioner, and so for the great majority of her life all of that will, all of that power, mental and physical, had been steered by her people.

And then she'd met Lor'themar. For the first time, she'd gotten to know someone who existed outside of the framework that had shaped her, and for that matter outside of the framework that had shaped _him_ , too. She'd listened to him talk about his life, about the destruction of everything he knew and his desire to build from the ashes something perhaps even better, stronger than what had been. And then she'd started, after so many centuries of certainty, to engage in that activity which is poison to a mind like hers had been: she had started to wonder. She'd started to wonder about the war between the Horde and the Alliance. She'd started to wonder about all these rules she accepted without thinking. She'd started to wonder about herself, and whether she really wanted to be a weapon. Arrows do not wonder.

She thought often, during those long dull days in the isolation of her cell beneath Sunfury Spire, of something he said to her early on. They'd been talking about the rules, about how he was breaking them by keeping her. There had been a long silence, and then she'd said, "Why are you doing this?"

"To keep you safe. I told you," he said, flicking an ear in irritation. "Because I couldn't think of something better at the time to keep my rangers from sending an arrow through your pretty throat."

Sinala had flung her hands in the air and said, "Okay, and why didn't you let them? Why are you flirting with me? Why haven't you just smuggled me out of the city in a sack or something and claimed that I escaped? Do you know what you risk by keeping me here?"

He'd raised his eyebrows in amusement at her outburst and said, "Enlighten me, Sinala," with that smug little grin of his that she grew to hate and then to love.

She'd rolled her eyes and rested her chin on her hand in a gesture of mock thoughtfulness. "Well, let's see. You're offending Darnassus and risking a reprisal. You're endangering everyone who lives in this building because if I get out of here I am fully capable of slitting every one of your throats before being discovered and even if I died, at least I'd be taking the lot of you with me. You're worrying other leaders of the Horde because by endangering your own position, you're threatening the balance of power. And," she looked him straight in the eyes, "you're coming in here by yourself, unguarded. You might be a lot stronger and quicker than me, Lord Regent, but I'm very determined. All I'd need is one second. _One second_. And I already know you have a weakness for me."

To her utter bemusement, he'd simply smiled, his single eye bright with good humor. "We'll make a politician of you yet, Sinala."

She'd huffed in annoyance and replied tartly, "I am a tactician. All of that's just basic strategy."

He raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

"And _you_ apparently haven't learned that your flattery doesn't work on me. Answer my question. _Why_ are you putting all of this on the line for, what, your own amusement?" she'd demanded, arms crossed indignantly over her chest.

He'd stared at her for a long moment and said quietly, "Have you ever been to the seaside, Sinala?"

She gaped at him and spluttered out, "Yes, I served around Darkshore for a while, but I don't see—"

He held up a hand to quiet her and continued, "Have you ever taken a close look at the land around there? Felt its presence? It looks like a lot of rocks, but if you listen to the land you can feel that you are standing on a graveyard. Where the land used to be water, you can sense the teeming life that gave of its bones to form the earth you stand on." He took a breath, looking off to the side, remembering. "You get so lost in the weight of the bones that you don't see the sea change. But the bones are not what make the land. It's the constant pressure of the sea against the shore that shapes it."

Sinala nodded, watching him carefully. "Life from death, and death from life. Yes. Basic principle of the natural world. Get to the point, Lor'themar."

He smiled again, that little smile that showed he was impressed with her, despite the fact that she was being impatient and rude. "I think we elves are too preoccupied with the bones. We remember being immortal and we think that lying amongst the corpses of our ancestors is the only way to capture even a shadow of what we once had. And we don't notice the sea, washing away even the most ancient parts of us."

Sinala blinked at him and snapped, "So you think we should be trying to control the sea? Build dams or something? A fool's errand."

He shook his head. "No. I think we should learn to move in harmony with the waves instead of believing that the only way to make peace with our mortality is to keep building on bonepiles, only to be swept away by the tide regardless."

It was a slipshod metaphor, but it had stuck in Sinala's mind. And so Lor'themar had slowly made a swimmer of her. It felt beautiful, freeing, _right_ , but right now she felt caught in a riptide. She had no place, constantly floating, feeling no more in control than she had when she'd first started questioning the place she'd made for herself on the bonepile. And her body was ruined, in revolt, serving the dreadlord's alien magic as eagerly it had once served her people. She could barely find the strength to walk, to eat. She could hardly sleep for the pain and the nightmares. Her illness felt like another captivity. Like a punishment. Like Elune had given her a brief taste of freedom, only to lead her to a new cage. Appropriate that one of her stewards was a Warden.

Mina poked her head around the door, interrupting Sinala's musings. She looked apprehensive. "Sinala? Syeris has brought someone here to see you. Someone she thinks might help."

Sinala shrugged, sitting up in her bed. She'd been prodded at by healers of various stripes nearly every day in the previous months, so what was one more? "Bring them in, I suppose."

Mina cleared her throat, looking even more uncomfortable. "Er, I should warn you, this woman is—a bit peculiar. She is another demon hunter, and she, er… she can be a bit unnerving."

Sinala gave the Warden a funny look, cocking her head at her in confusion. "Clearly," she said blankly.

Mina was not particularly given to nervous gestures, but Sinala could see that she was gripping the doorframe a little too hard. "She… is mute, so she gets around it by speaking directly into your mind. Telepathically, I mean." She sighed. "It is highly uncomfortable, but don't be frightened. She will not harm you."

Sinala narrowed her eyes. "Into my head? What the hell does that mean? Can she see what I'm thinking?"

Mina shifted a little. "Not… exactly. She can sort of sense what you are feeling, but she can't literally read your thoughts. At least, she'll stay out of them."

Sinala could hear the unspoken _I think_ appended to the end of the sentence and shuddered. "And exactly how can she help me?" she asked suspiciously.

Mina sighed. "Well. You won't like this bit either. I don't, if it comes to it. But as you may be aware, demon hunters bind their souls to a demon in order to attain their power. Xal specifically is bound to a dreadlord, so she has… what you might call extensive experience with dreadlord magic, and she can perhaps tell us a bit more about what will be necessary to remove the curse."

Sinala's mind raced, attempting to keep up with the information despite her exhaustion. Something about what Mina had just said was incorrect. "But… I thought we just had to kill him?" She looked at Mina hard, and saw in her face that she'd thought wrong. And the Warden wasn't looking at her, which meant—"You knew that might not be enough." She ran her fingers roughly through her hair in exasperation. "You knew! Why didn't you tell me?" She knew the sense of betrayal she felt was ridiculous—she'd known this woman for all of a week—but still, during their conversation earlier, she'd felt safe with her, for a moment. And now she'd found that she'd been kept out of the loop. Treated like a child.

"We did not wish to worry you," Mina said softly, looking contrite. "We weren't sure. We still aren't. But Xal might be able to tell us."

Sinala let out a ragged sigh, letting her face fall into her hands. "Warden. This is happening to _me_. This curse is ruining _my_ body. I deserve to know everything that you do," she said fiercely, glaring up at Mina. "I am an adult. I was a soldier for centuries. You _will not_ keep anything from me again, understand?"

Mina's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth, looking like she was about to argue, but then she breathed heavily out from her nose and her shoulders slumped. "Yes, Sentinel. You are right. We will try to be more transparent with you in future." Her eyes darted to the side and she looked behind her for a moment. "Ah, they're here. Will you let Xal examine you now?"

"Provided she tells me what exactly this examination will entail," Sinala said sharply. "I really don't like having strange magic cast on me without my knowledge. As I'm sure you can imagine."

Mina nodded. "Of course." She opened the door more fully and stepped aside. "Come in, both of you." Syeris bounced through the door first. Sinala stared quizzically at her expression for a moment and it dawned on her that the demon hunter looked… happy. She was looking behind her, leading their visitor in by the hand. Once she moved enough to reveal the cloaked figure behind her, Sinala felt an immediate wave of anxious nausea.

Sinala had approximately zero affinity for magic apart from her ability to relate to the wilds, but she immediately felt the aura of _wrongness_ surrounding the other demon hunter. She was frail, much frailer than Syeris, and pale. She moved with the grace of a Silvermoon lady, and she had a certain daintiness that only served to accentuate her eeriness. Those long horns jutting from her forehead. Those magenta tattoos glowing and moving in sickening sinuous shapes on her skin. That blood-colored veil hiding her face. Instinctively, Sinala shrunk back against the head of the bed.

DO NOT BE AFRAID, SINALA GREENLEAF. I AM XAL. I AM HERE TO HELP. Sinala's head knocked against the bed as she jumped in terror at the sound. Mina darted over and grabbed her hand, trying to rub soothing circles into the back of it, but Sinala barely noticed, shaking as she tried to get her bearings. The voice was high and rasping, just barely identifiable as female. Her brain scrambled as it tried to figure out why she could hear something when it hadn't come through her ears and she could feel the invasion of the demon hunter's mind like a dark weight, slightly painful.

Syeris smiled uncomfortably and said, "Hey, now, Sentinel, it's all right—" at the same time as the horrible echoing voice in her head said, I HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. I AM SORRY. She did not look terribly sorry. Sinala could see the shadow of a wry smile beneath the crimson veil.

"Don't talk at the same time!" Sinala nearly shrieked, eyes slightly wild. Her gaze darted between Syeris and Mina. "Can you hear it too?"

YES. WE MAY ALSO TALK PRIVATELY IF YOU WOULD PREFER. Again that smile.

Sinala tried to force herself to calm down, taking deep breaths. "That—that won't be necessary, for now." She swallowed. "So you're going to examine me, or something?"

Xal nodded, still smiling. Feeling a little dizzy still, Sinala wished she wouldn't. I WILL REQUIRE A CLEARER VIEW OF THE MARK. PLEASE GET COMFORTABLE.

Still feeling a little unsteady, Sinala closed her eyes and said, "Just. I need a moment. Please tell me what you're going to do."

OF COURSE. I WILL MERELY USE MY OWN MAGIC TO PROBE THE MARK. YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL ANYTHING, BUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU FEEL ANY PAIN OR DISCOMFORT. MAY I APPROACH?

Every sinew in her body was telling her to refuse this strange creature, but Sinala nodded and turned, taking her hand out of Mina's to sweep her long hair away from the back of her neck. Xal almost seemed to float as she walked over to the bed. Syeris darted over, dragging a chair to the bedside so that Xal could sit. _How odd_ , Sinala thought vaguely, _she's being so… solicitous_. Xal smiled at her gratefully and sat, shifting the leather kilt she wore with a strange demureness. Much later, when she knew more of Xal's past, Sinala would remember that little gesture and see it as a sad echo of the shy country priestess she had once been. At the moment, it just unsettled her further. Reluctantly, Sinala shifted, turning her exposed back to Xal, and tried not to flinch when she felt the demon hunter's surprisingly gentle touch against her spine.

AWFUL. She felt the brush of fingertips along the tracery of black. IT IS DIGGING INTO YOUR SKIN. Sinala wasn't sure if she felt better or worse at detecting the note of genuine pity in Xal's voice. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, unease implacably straightening her spine.

The light touch moved across her neck. YOU ARE STILL FRIGHTENED OF ME, said Xal, her tone perfectly neutral.

"I'm not frightened," Sinala snapped, earning her strange looks from Syeris and Mina. She realized that Xal must have spoken only to her and flushed, clenching her fists until she could feel the points of her nails digging into the meat of her palm.

THEN LET US SAY YOU ARE… NERVOUS. I CAN SOOTHE YOUR NERVES, IF YOU DESIRE IT. Sinala suddenly felt a new presence at the edge of her awareness, faint but warm and comforting. With a shock, she recognized it as Light magic, and she sensed that it was coming from the demon hunter. She stammered, "You—the Light—how?"

Mina was looking ill at ease, but Syeris just grinned and squeezed the other demon hunter's shoulder affectionately. "Our Xal is quite… special, Sentinel."

Xal smiled that odd little smile of hers. YOU ARE WONDERING IF THIS IS SOME SORT OF PERVERSION OR TRICK, SENTINEL. ALL I WILL SAY TO THAT IS THIS: WE MAY BE FALSE TO THE LIGHT, BUT THE LIGHT MAY NEVER BE FALSE TO US. THE LIGHT ABANDONS NOT, FORSAKES NOT, COUSIN. NOT EVEN THE MOST BROKEN OF US.

Sinala nodded, hardly comprehending Xal's words. "All the same," she murmured absently, "I think I will be all right, thank you."

AS YOU WISH. A Light-wielding demon hunter. Well. She supposed that all was possible in the will of the Goddess, but… As if she'd heard Sinala's train of thought—actually, Sinala corrected sourly, she probably literally _had_ heard it—Xal said, I WAS A PRIESTESS, ONCE. AFTER THE… CHANGE, MY CONNECTION TO THE LIGHT WAS MOSTLY… SEVERED. BUT NOT COMPLETELY. She paused. BUT I DO NOT LIKE TO SPEAK OF MY PAST.

"I didn't ask," Sinala pointed out irritably.

AH. MY APOLOGIES. After another distinctly awkward pause, Xal added, I AM NEARLY FINISHED. THERE IS JUST ONE PIECE OF THE SPELL I DO NOT QUITE UNDERSTAND. YOU MAY FEEL A TWINGE.

In point of fact, Sinala's vision exploded in a kaleidoscope of awful colors and pain, and then she felt nothing.


End file.
